


Will of Infinity

by XtaticPearl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Feels, BAMF Women, Canon Queer Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Epic, F/F, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Found Family, Friends to Enemies, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hope vs. Despair, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Legends, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: A nomadic knight gets involved in the destiny of a disowned warrior princess and together they test the truth of a looping celestial history.Saakhi Por treasures her freedom above everything and would rather work on her terms than anybody's rules or expectations. Paher Minar has learnt the price of one's freedom the hard way when she broke every rule of her family to stay true to her conscience. The secrets surrounding Minar's powers and legacy of being the Sanhira, a moon's representative, set both of them on a collision course with everyone who wants to either use or fight it. Neither of them is helpless but destiny has a way of testing strengths, especially of those who choose to protect people seeking help.





	1. Prologue

There weren’t many hands in the groves before the sun had climbed up the walls of Paheri Nok, the treasured apples let to rest around the morning dew. It would take the Chief Gardener an hour to rouse the sleepy young to get to work after the official day was allowed to begin.

This wasn’t just another day though, and there were quiet chuckles filtering from underneath the slumbering trees already. Birthdays were special at the Chief’s home and there would be freshly made sweets, stuffed and mixed with the fruits being gathered right now.

“My heel hurts already, this dastardly cold,” one grunted as she plucked with a frown, the basket laid by her feet, “I hear that the _Aga Angara_* is as wealthy as the weed of the forest, can’t he afford fruit from anywhere with one throw of a coin-bag? I feel the night still creeping its chill into my bones!”

“Keep grumbling if you wish to find another hire,” an older man, her senior in the gardens, peered at the basket on the ground before resuming his work without pausing, “He isn’t cruel but Paher Mahir isn’t one to tolerate tongues that wag more than work. Besides, the special feast is always made from the produce here. It has been a tradition since the naming of the young master.”

“Isn’t it because of -,” his son piped up but bit his tongue when the father shot him a pointed glare. He was young, younger than those who had been witness to the story he had only heard during bedtime. Nobody knew if it was told as a cautionary tale or a regretful memory but there were few homes in Agapura, let alone the Mavat hills, that did not know of the misfortune.

The young lady with an aching heel had moved to the land quite recently and she shifted her eyes between the others, a distraction blooming in her mind.

“Because of what, Dada?” she had a curious mind and there was always room for gossip, especially when it made the work bearable. The Paher clan was a generous employer and a glittering wall of pristine pride, which always sought a beauty mark in terms of salacious pasts. She saw the hesitance on her senior’s face and wracked her mind for any possible hint she might have heard already.

There was one, though –

“Is it because of his sister?” she could remember the mention of the two, the pair to the dutiful son, a young mistress who had been swept like ash under the rug of the land’s talks.

“What sister?” the son scoffed, looking away from his father purposely as he hefted his smaller basket into the giant pile, “She was as different from the family as night from day. It took the poor Queen so long to find sanity again after what she did to them. Five hundred leaders, all noble and virtuous guests of the clan, burnt to the ground in one night.”

“I heard that she was influenced by that nomad scholar? Aira- Aiva –”

“Ailaran,” the young boy piped up and his father threw a fallen branch at his head, hushing his tone.

“If you want to die, do it once you have earned me back your childhood expenses,” the old man hissed, looking over his shoulder at the inquiring young woman with a harried frown, “Yes, it is because of her, this was the garden she began with the young master. Now, one more nosy bit from you and I’ll make you work at this hour for the entire week, mind you!”

“Uff, it’s not like I’m practicing Sanchay in the yard,” the woman grumbled under her breath but went back to work nevertheless. There was no more mention of the feared princess who had once planted the trees that they plucked fruit from now. The people inside the sun-bathed walls of Paheri Nok didn’t want to know where she was, and only hoped that neither she nor her crazed ideas would affect them again.

Paher Minar was nothing more than a runaway murderer and the land was better with her gone.

_Aga Angar - Title of the Chief. Literal meaning Ember of Aga_

_Sanchay - Moonshadow tricks_


	2. Descent - Part 1

It was three bells past the midnight’s alarm when the last guard fell, their body hitting the fire-pillar. The sound woke him from his fading consciousness and he tried to see how long he could hold out. His grandfather’s desk was pressed against the door but it wouldn’t stand the pressure of twenty arms ramming a giant log in; once, twice, with a mighty third push they would make the first crack. 

The wrought-iron edge of the bed dug into his back as Paher Mahir tried to blink out the sweat dripping into his eyes. It was sweltering now, the fire in his throat spreading down his chest to his stomach. There was a good reason it had its name, the Samvartaka’s essence raising hell’s flames from within a body. They didn’t find it here, the soil uncorrupted for its bearing. It would have been reared among the poisons of nurtured toxins. 

“What’s taking so long!” someone yelled, a young voice impatient to end the siege. There were always those who were one leap away from a crown, time seeming too long between its fall and rise onto their head. 

What was taking so long, he wondered too, but his thoughts were directed to his missing son. Mogh was supposed to have answered the call for help with reinforcements. His head hit the canopy’s post as he pulled his weight from the mattress, grinding his teeth as his body rebelled the impudence. 

Rebellion wasn’t new to this body though, nor to Mahir. 

The door rattled, teak bearing the brunt of the intruders’ fury, and Mahir’s fingers tightened around the untied curtain behind him. The dandelion print seeped crimson from his palm, making him notice that he hadn’t wiped the blood off his hands. He didn’t know if it was his or his victims’, unnamed spoils staining up to his wrist and lower still. He was probably also letting his thigh’s wound drip all over the carpet, he couldn’t say with the edges blurring in his vision. 

“Again!” the command came in tune with the second impact, snapping his eyes back to the door and then looking to his right at the open window. The full moon sat serene in the faraway peace, unwilling to offer privacy through clouds, and he let out a laboured breath. He could jump out, the fall would snap his limbs but - 

A dead-end made fools out of the fortunate. 

His hand flew to his throat as the air seemed to be lead blocking his lungs. He didn’t have the luxury of surviving a jump. He couldn’t survive anything. 

“A-,” his voice refused to let the whisper complete and he dragged his feet, moving towards the table he had jammed to the door. The blue robe skimmed his ankles, one clasp undone at his shoulder and letting the fabric twirl between steps. It felt inane to think about how this robe had been the only present remaining from his brother, but the thought held his mind in a vice. One steps, two, four and a heaving collapse against the desk had the King clawing at the leather surface of his intended destination. 

There was muffled yelling from outside but Mahir couldn’t pause to pay attention and his hands reached for the first drawer of the desk, gripping the brass knob tight as he opened it. Seal, inkpot, quills - his palm connected with the solid wooden box finally and he dragged it out. 

The motif of a dripping sun stared back at him before he clicked it open, almost weeping in relief at the sight of the safely tucked into the dark velvet. 

If there was nothing else to lose, then there was everything to put at stake. Nobody knew that better than a dying man with unending regret.

“Break it open!” the command echoed and Mahir dragged one last gulp of courage into his burning lungs before pulling the artifact out of the box. It was still just as he remembered, the twin swirls fit together as a seal. Night and day, one of the dark sky and the other of the noon sun formed a contrasting spoked disc of half-and-half at the center. It would do nothing for him, he knew that just as he knew it on the day he hid it safe from prying eyes. He hadn’t learnt the skills for it even when he had been offered the chance to learn and it had once been a proof of his magnanimity. 

_If you can find this, please forgive me_, he prayed as he clutched the trinket in his right hand, pressing the left onto his chest to keep the pain at bay. 

He knew what would be done when they finally came in, knew how this worked, and he turned to the window to look up at the moon one last time. 

_I tried_, he offered an unspoken confession before he threw the box out the window with all his might. He grabbed anything he could find from the drawer and kept throwing, uncaring of what it was that came to hand. In between insignificant things, he threw the sealed treasure, nondescript in its form. One who didn’t know its worth would see it as something broken. One who knew its worth wouldn’t open it without the missing part. It was futile to one and dangerous to another but Mahir hoped that it would find whom he had kept it from finding. 

The final slam came with a splintering crash and Mahir turned to face his attackers just in time for the desk to ram into him under the force. He felt himself fly backwards at the impact, catching the eye of the young man who had wanted to get into his room for so long. 

_Who are you_, he thought feebly before his head hit the window-pane and his neck hit the edge of the wall with a resounding crack that he couldn’t hear completely. The last sound Paher Mahir heard before his mind stopped was the rip of his robe, finally parting from his shoulder in his end.

It took three more bells to ring before reinforcements could come and there was nothing left to save in the King’s chambers. The Queen had been secretly sent to her sister-in-law’s place when the attack had begun and she didn’t witness as her husband was lifted out from under his own desk, eyes unseeing of the guards who knew nothing of what truly killed him. 

The attackers had fled the scene and those who were caught were scapegoats in disguise. Nobody knew name or face of the men who had dared to murder the Aga Angara in his own home and the matter was kept hushed in details within those who roamed Paheri Nok. 

“The king suffered from a mighty stroke,” the royal announcer repeated as instructed, in the noisy market and the hushed lakeside, “His heart gave out and he could not be saved. The prince shall return soon from his unavoidable voyage and until then, the Royal Advisor Mihira will be responsible for the kingdom.”

The entirety of Agapura mourned the demise of their kind king and nobody thought to refute what was not revealed. Paheri Nok was silent in its grief, a rolled away secret waiting to be picked up.


	3. Descent - Part 2

Daybreak was a symbol of calm and renewed life at Agapura. The russet framed magnifying glass nestled in the turret of Paheri Nok welcomed the sun, patiently awaiting the heat to pass through it. It was a well-known ritual of the land, to light the first flame of a home after the offering placed at the turret would catch fire from the sun’s light. Dried wood from the kitchen’s fresh stock, leaves fallen during the previous night, and an oil-soaked cloth woven by the lady of the tower - it was symbol of gratitude, surrender, and diligence. There wasn’t a child or guest who wouldn’t know to follow the custom. 

Saakhi struck her sword against the rock pillar and bent low, catching the feeble spark against her rolled up parchment. Eyeing the low burning piece, she pinched her mouth before blowing lightly to make it burn better. Satisfied when the orange end began glowing, she straightened to take a puff and squinted up at the quiet turret. 

“Shame,” she exhaled a ring of smoke and tipped the blade back into its sheath with one hand, “I was really hoping to taste a poached fish today. Do you think they’ll light that thing up before lunch?”

“I was hoping to not get chased by royal guards today but looks like _that’s_ not happening either,” Imay dug into his cloth pouch, tightening the maroon waistband as he frowned down, “Did you finish all the peanuts? When did you take it?”

“Sometime when I thought I’d get to eat poached fish thanks to my new job,” Saakhi replied and Imay chucked the last two nuts he had at his sister’s face, “What?”

“First, they don’t have poached fish here. Agapura has lamb, I think it’s marinated,” he moved his face away when the next puff of smoke threatened to mask him, “Second, the chief died. It hasn’t even been two nights yet. It’s not the guy’s fault that your job was linked to him staying alive.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve got to starve,” Saakhi caught sight of the changing guard of the place and stared back at him when he glared at her hand. He finally looked away and she took one last puff before throwing the burnt out roll to the ground, turning to her brother as she crushed it under her boot. 

“We could wait and see if we got hold of the son?” Imay suggested, smiling at the guard Saakhi had just displeased, glancing at her with a shrug, “Or the General?”

Saakhi raised a brow at him and he nodded with a look at the handle of his satchel. They weren’t the most reputable lot, and the only reason they had come to Agapura was because of the personal invite from the Aga Angara. People approached nomadic knights rarely for more than singular missions, the distrust of an unaligned individual too high to place against personal value. It was even tougher for them, the orphaned siblings with nothing worthier than their skills and wits about them, and the price of offered jobs was often too high. Saakhi had been knighted by a zealous passing king after she had saved his life at their hometown, and Imay had honed his navigation skills to stay on his toes. They had been far too much of a burden on their father’s relatives and far too much of a sorrowful reminder to their mother’s. It hadn’t been much of a choice to fend for themselves and they were both experienced on what to look out for at new areas by now. 

Paher Mahir had given Saakhi his word but a word meant nothing if the tongue spoke no more. They had nothing concrete to offer as proof and Imay had heard enough disbelieving allegations in the past to know when to not pursue. Agapura was prosperous, the fawn and gold flag fluttering proud at its Chief’s tower, and the grace of the people differed from those of an uncouth knight or her brother in a sullied skirt. 

“Right,” he tapped at Saakhi’s arm, turning towards the horses they had tied to a flagpole, “We better get going if you want any lunch. There might be some fried lotus stem at the shop we passed by on the way here. You’re buying.”

“I told you I didn’t have my pouch on me yesterday,” Saakhi tugged her waistcoat’s edges closer as she followed Imay, tossing the nuts she had caught earlier at her horse, “Don’t give me that look, I gave you my sole apple last night.”

Sahas gave an unimpressed grunt and happily accepted Imay’s scratches under the chin, blowing into his face when the right spot was hit. The brown stallion was never an outright fan of his mistress’ bizarreness but was downright affectionate with the younger Por, sharing the same excitement as Imay’s mare Raina. It was probably linked to Sahas having been technically stolen from his previous master, but Saakhi maintained that the gamble was fair and a price was a price. Imay was among the few smart ones who knew better than to bet against her. 

“You! Stop!”

“It wasn’t even a _flame_ -,” Imay began as they turned around but noticed that the yell was not directed at them. Saakhi stepped forward and it was only when she began running that Imay noticed the girl being chased by the guards across the courtyard. The girl, a kid really, didn’t look hurt but didn’t look like she was part of the tower’s staff either. From his place Imay could see that the guards were gaining vantage, their trained legs more than match for the teenager’s stumbling feet, but the girl kept running without halt. From his calculation, she was either at too much risk if she could caught or too desperate to take whatever she had clutched in the haphazardly tied up cloth bag hanging from her arms. He wasn’t personally bothered by petty thieves but the rich were and Imay watched the girl almost run into the pillar at the turning of the courtyard before Saakhi reached in time to grab her by the arm. 

“Stop right - how dare you!” the shorter guard huffed as they came to a halt, glaring at the panicked culprit over Saakhi’s shoulder before giving Saakhi a short look, “Who are you?”

“Someone with quicker legs, does it matter?” she subtly held the kid behind her and pulled out a polite grin that Imay had seen before, “She stole something important, I presume.”

“Hand her over,” the guard ordered, shifting his armour-robe back to place, “Stealing from Paheri Nok is a crime worth punishment. What does it matter what she stole?”

“But aren’t you here for _what_ she has?” Saakhi asked, her voice calm but carrying over the space with ease, “It’s a bad time all-around, sir, isn’t everybody mad with grief already? In the midst of all the chaos, do you really have to waste your time over punishing a petty thief? Here, let me help.”

Saakhi held out a hand and turned around half-way when the bag wasn’t given, shooting the girl a pointed look. The kid looked between Saakhi and the guards with a mutinous expression for a minute before handing the bag over, thrusting it with a frustrated huff into her saviour’s hand. Saakhi smoothly turned back to the guards and tossed it to them, tugging the kid by the arm as she moved away. 

“Don’t worry, I’m a knight. I’ll handle this thief for you,” she assured them as she began walking without pause, “Good day, gentlemen and -uh - my condolences.”

Imay bit back a laugh at the awkwardness of the tone but took the cue and led their horses out, knowing that his sister would meet him where the guards wouldn’t persist. The arched gateway of the tower’s entrance passed as he kept walking, glancing at the cleaners who had just come in to sweep the mourning household. As far as he knew, the Queen was particular about the appearance of her home and it was fairly popular gossip that the royal floors were polished more than the mirrors on their walls. He idly thought about himself living in a home like that, being conscious of where his footprints marked and where his fingerprints marred. He’d probably manage it, he decided, with a good incentive of a warmer bed and a luxurious bath. 

Saakhi would jump out the window on the first night. 

His runaway sister found him at the first street of the market, tossing a seal of some kind in her palm while the rescued teenager marched with more determined steps beside her. 

“That doesn’t look like the expression of a grateful person,” Imay commented as he took in the kid’s annoyed face before tossing Sahas’ reins to Saakhi, “Are we sure she’s not going to bite you?”

“Your girlfriend is a thief,” the kid informed him and Saakhi caught the sealed object with a choked out laugh, glancing at Imay with glee at his exasperated disgust. 

“I almost wish you had bitten her instead,” Imay pointed at Saakhi and then at himself, “Do we look like that to you? Why must you insult people like this?”

“He’s my brother,” Saakhi commented and then nodded at the kid, “She’s Nami. Nami graciously gave me this compass for saving her life.”

“I didn’t _give_ you anything and you didn’t save my _life_,” Nami shot back, looking over at Imay, “I was just taking whatever was thrown out the window. That’s not stealing and I could have proved that.”

“Funny way of saying thank you,” Imay shot Saakhi an amused look before grinning at Nami’s outraged expression, “Kid, she’s taken gold for less and those guards weren’t going to give you a chair to listen to you patiently. Besides, I notice that you’ve still got that hand mirror tucked in safely, so it’s a fair deal.”

Nami pushed the mirror back under the waist-cloth and huffed, shooting Saakhi one last glare before noticing the horses. 

“Where are you guys going?”

“Some place without nosy kids,” Saakhi quipped but Nami was a quick learner and pretended to ignore her, eyeing Imay with a curious expression instead. 

“We don’t know,” he answered, looking at the open stretch of the slowly awakening market crowd, “But Saakhi here owes me some lunch, so first that and then a plan. Do you know some good place?”

“There’s a shop by the lake that has the best fried-lotus stem,” she replied immediately and Imay pointed his finger at her. 

“That’s where I was thinking too! Have you ever tasted it? How’s it?”

“The grandpa at the shop gives me special servings,” Nami said proudly, moving one step closer to Imay, “I could get you a discount there!”

“We don’t do stowaways,” Saakhi interrupted, frowning slightly when both of them looked at her before resuming their conversation, “Hey! I’m the one who did all the work here!”

“You’ve already taken my compass, you can pay for lunch,” Nami declared, making Imay laugh at the surprised expression on his sister’s face. 

“Finally some smart company,” he chuckled and tugged Raina forward to start walking beside the confidently skipping teen, “Come on, show us your special discount skills.”

Saakhi grumbled for a whole minute before trudging along and the three made their way out of the sun-bright roads with the prospect of ill-got food. 

* * *


	4. Descent - Part 3

“It doesn’t work”

“Neither do you, but you’re still here,” Saakhi tipped her face up to the sun and looked back down at the compass. It wasn’t supposed to be showing them the opposite direction no matter what they tried, was it? Maybe something was off with the weirdly shaped black screw in the center. 

Nami didn’t throw the wet slippers she was carrying and Saakhi was going to consider that an improvement. It was like training a baboon, maybe, kids. Use tricks and they play it back. Use words and they can’t win. 

“We’re fine, Nami,” Imay said amicably from his seat atop Raina, balancing Nami in front of him as he squinted into the distance, “By my calculation we should reach Ujwi soon and we can rest there. Saakhi!”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember that merchant with the broken ceramic statue?”

“Hmm”

“Does he still owe you the favour?”

“Now he does,” Saakhi put the compass away and leaned forward, hugging her horse lazily as she rested her head against Sahas, “What am I asking for?”

“How about a meal and a room to stay?” Imay suggested politely before correcting, “Make it two rooms. We’ve got a young lady with us.”

Saakhi shot him a thumbs-up without looking and then turned the thumb down when she heard the kid’s pleased hum. This time Nami didn’t throw the slippers only because Imay caught them before they could be thrown. 

They hadn’t intended on taking the teen along when they had gone to eat lunch two days ago, but then Imay had got talking with her and Saakhi had been dragged into her bleeding heart brother’s idea. For all that they had been taught to protect themselves first, Saakhi had always known that Imay would slip a good deed into his daily schedule to help digest his food better. The fact that Nami was an orphan like them and had been kicked out of her uncle’s house had only added fuel to the unnecessary fire. 

Imay had been the same age as Nami when Saakhi had first lied to him that they would be living on their own because they were grown-ups like Ma and Pa had been. He had liked the idea, him with his fascination of playing homemaker while keeping track of mostly empty vessels in the kitchen or charming the grocer into giving them an extra bag of rice. The lie had broken too soon but Imay had never blamed her for not being enough. He had just accepted that they would have to create their own version of ‘enough’. 

Knight and navigator. Trouble and troublemaker. Sister and brother. They were enough. 

Of course, at times like now when he decided to play mother to clearly smart rugrats, Saakhi had no interest in helping him with his redefined definition of ‘enough’. She was happy playing the obviously saner voice that kept Nami grounded and Imay from raising a duckling. 

Just as Imay said, they reached Ujwi before sunset where Saakhi let her brother deal with the horses and the asleep kid before leaving to go find them a room. 

Two rooms, she corrected mentally with a tired sigh. 

They hadn’t visited the town before but they had met one of the main-square merchants while on a mission at Odho. He hadn’t been among the kindest of men she had met but Saakhi didn’t only save the good ones, and the greedier ones had deeper pockets to dig into anyway. They had gotten a measly amount as thanks but he had promised a favour and it could come in use today. 

_Thankfully, a favour has proof that a word doesn’t_, she thought as she reached into the pocket of her waistcoat to pull out the tied up bunch of parchment. 

“Let’s see,” she riffled through the pages as she walked, “Torni, Kohala, Andi - ah, Ujwi, got it. The esteemed Batu Jagira, signed and promised. Good.”

“Watch where you’re going,” a hawker yelled as his cart almost bumped into her and Saakhi looked up with a quick perusal of his wares. 

“You too,” she held out the parchment in hand and pointed at the name, “Where do I find Batu Jagira?”

“How rude! First you don’t apologize and then you demand favours!”

“It’s not a favour, it’s a question,” Saakhi looked around and spotted another stall of vendors nearby, “I can ask anybody else who knows. Your bangles are going to fall.”

“What -,” the hawker looked down and hastened to catch the box of bangles that were dangerously tipping over, “How -!”

“Nice save,” she commented with a nod as she moved around him to keep looking. 

“He’ll be at the first floor of the last building on the street to your right!”

Saakhi turned as she walked and raised her hand in thanks before taking the direction as told. 

The road was reasonably lit, owners taking care to burn lamps and lanterns at the entrances, and Saakhi strolled up to the described building with a relaxed step to her feet. Batu Jagira was a man with enough cloth to spare going by his wardrobe and enough food to waste going by the dog that ate a full-course meal when Saakhi entered his place. His sweat increased as much as the oily smile on his face when he read the reminder and Saakhi had experience with a good bargain but it was easier when she didn’t have to think about teenage girls as a factor. 

She was going to get Imay to stop one day. She really was. 

Walking back from the overtly dejected man’s place, Saakhi considered telling her brother that they could keep moving further. They could rest in a clearing, make a bonfire, hope to not be covered in bug bites in the morning. It would be a learning experience for the kid, wouldn’t it? 

When she finally reached their decided meeting spot, Saakhi caught sight of a stranger talking to Imay, his back to her. There was no mark of importance on him but his back was ramrod straight, like he had spent half his life training his spine to reject a slouch. He was tall, she observed as she made her way closer, taller than her certainly but not so much that she couldn’t make him keel over. His built was no bigger than Imay and by the expression on her brother’s face, he wasn’t imposing or intruding more than Imay could handle. 

Knowing Imay, that expression could rather mean that her brother would be the one imposing if he could. 

“She’s here,” Imay said suddenly and smiled as he waved her over closer, subtly nodding when she hoped that her eyes could ask if he was alright. The stranger moved to the side and turned around halfway, showing someone older than her but with a genial smile that Saakhi had seen on young maidens. 

“You found another one?” she asked casually as she looked to see Nami still sleeping on the horse’s back. 

“This brother offered to help us out tonight,” Imay explained with a smile directed at the stranger, “He has a room that we could use.”

Brother? Saakhi wanted to ask but Imay pointedly ignored her look and she let it slide, turning her attention to the man. 

“I saw the child sleeping and the young man was waiting out here,” the man spoke politely, with a strange sense of respect to him that Saakhi didn’t get from most adults who saw both her and her brother. Well, even if they were polite at sight, they seemed to lose it when she spoke. 

“And you wanted to offer us a room for no reason?” she asked, knowing that her tone was dripping in judgement. 

“My nephew left earlier than expected and I have a room to spare,” the man said before seeming to remember something, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Val Gunshi. I’m new here too so I’m afraid I can’t help out more than this.”

“I don’t think you’re required to help _at all_,” Saakhi pointed out, wanting one more confirmation before she could take advantage of the offer. She didn’t care really, she was capable of beating this man if there came a need for it and they really could do with a room. 

Still, the question would nag her if she didn’t let it out. 

“My husband says that sometimes,” Val quipped, a fond chuckle slipping at the mention of his husband and Saakhi understood why Imay had said ‘brother’, “I haven’t found a reasonable response yet, unfortunately. If it makes you more comfortable, you can take both the rooms. I’m used to sleeping outside and the clearing nearby isn’t so bad.”

“We can find a room on our own too, you know?” she commented and could feel Imay’s look even without seeing. He could deal with the impatience. 

“Madam, I don’t doubt that,” Val smiled as he looked at the sheathed sword on her waist and then looked over at the bow slung over Sahas before meeting her gaze again, “In case you want this one though, it’s available.”

Saakhi didn’t understand why this man was being such a fool but she wasn’t averse to fools when they helped her way. 

“Alright then,” Saakhi leaned over to pick the sleeping Nami into her arms, “Imay, get the things. Gunshi, lead the way.”

They did get the room and nobody asked them to pay for it. Saakhi considered checking the other room in the middle of the night as Imay slept on, but then decided against it. If something were to happen, she was at an advantage here. 

When morning came, Val Gunshi did nothing but wish them well and bid farewell. 

“Gunshi!” Saakhi called out when she saw the man pack his bags onto the saddle, “Where exactly are you from?”

“Swatan,” he answered and hefted himself onto his horse, “You might not have been there.”

Saakhi thought about it and turned to look at Imay who frowned but didn’t look perturbed. So, not a bad place in particular. 

They were travelling aimlessly anyway and the compass was stubborn about not showing them the right direction to anywhere. Plus she had no job to complete right now. And this man seemed way too generous for his own good. 

“What if we want to?” she asked, ignoring Nami’s confused mumble at her side, “What do you have there?”

Val considered that question for a minute before answering, the calm not breaking at all. 

“Homes”

That - okay, then. 


	5. Spin - Part 1

Working with clay tiles wasn’t the same as working with slate. The weight felt different in her hands even as she balanced her feet on the beams, hooking one red tile after the other. They were lucky that it had stopped raining early enough, the wood dry and still intact from when she had checked it a week ago. 

It felt like longer, replacing an entire stretch of the roof alone, with clear instructions to the others about not disturbing. That wouldn’t last long with the kids but she could hold out hope, just a little while more. 

“Oie!”

Or maybe not. 

“I can hear you ignoring me!” Tejo sounded just as annoyed as she thought the pig-headed troublemaker would and she focused on the last ten tiles left, “You can’t do that, it’s not allowed. I had to eat lunch with Hasya, of all people -”

“Ahem”

“- and then Matamahim decided to grade my lessons while I was eating,” the tone suggested a nightmare beyond comprehension and she hid a grin as her self-decided interrupter continued, “I have never hated lunch more and this is all your fault. Are you listening? _ Opa _! Saanjh!”

Saanjh pressed the last tile into place and knocked on it once lightly, leaning back on her haunches to see her work as a broader view. It wasn’t so bad, the broken patches were refit, there were no gaps between sections, there wasn’t any loose tile that would fall off under the first hint of rain - it was enough. Getting to her feet, she edged back carefully and eyed the ladder placed in the same spot she had left it while she had climbed up. Grabbing for the wood of the ladder, she adjusted her grip and began making her way down steadily, not bothering to hurry. It was one thing to climb up but the descent always made her believe that she would slip, an unseen stroke of bad luck making sure her foot would miss a step. 

When she was finally on the ground, she let go of the ladder and pulled it away from the roof easily, balancing it against one hand as she turned to face Tejo. 

“First, don’t talk about Hasya that way with me, she’s your chosen sister,” she said with a hint of amusement creeping onto her face even as she made sure her voice was clear, leaving no room for refuting, “What do you do when I’m not here? She’s the one who’s always with you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but now you’re here,” Tejo insisted in that way which Saanjh remembered clearly from when she was a stubborn teenager herself. It was probably why the girl got away with half the things she did around Saanjh, if the pointed looks from the elders was any hint. 

“Besides, I usually eat with Qari,” Tejo now turned to squint at the roof, her right hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun, “He’s much better company and doesn’t tell me to quiet down. I could have helped you with this, you know?”

“I know,” Saanjh nodded to go along with the idea, “But since you didn’t need to, now you can help the others with something else.”

“You’re supposed to be the fun one around here,” Tejo reminded in a dry tone and Saanjh shrugged with an unrepentant half-grin but carried the ladder under her arm as they began walking back, “Is it true that Leader Gunshi will be coming back today? Or by tomorrow?”

“He should”

“And then you’ll be leaving back for Swatan?”

“Yes”

“And I can come with you this time?”

“Sure”

“But I thi - wait,” Tejo stopped and then jogged up to catch up, looping an arm around her free arm excitedly, “Really?!”

“Of course,” Saanjh quipped without missing a beat, “All you need to do is get Matamahim to say that you’ve cleared the tests for this month.”

The teenager buried her face in Saanjh’s shoulder and muffled a frustrated yell that only got her a sympathetic chuckle. 

Jevadhi was a dragonfly’s paradise when the monsoon hit, the dropped wings dotting the porch of every home invariably. They would burrow themselves in shelter until the storm passed, waiting to get back to their earlier route, and Saanjh had learnt to let them be when the petrichor hit. It always annoyed those who had cleaning duty the next morning but she kept up a compromise by sweeping up the wings herself before it became a chore. It was a small price to pay for the curious creatures to have some reprieve. It wasn’t much, considering their lifespan. 

As they walked up the pathway to the back entrance of _ Ambaramanila _, Saanjh heard someone yell from a distance. With Ambaramanila being the residential school of Jevadhi and Matamahim’s ancestral home, it wasn’t unusual for the occassional panicked shout or distress call. Usually it was one of the students having ignored a safety regulation before experimenting something or one of the cultivators there to complain about misbehaving cattle. 

Saanjh wasn’t particularly fond of handling the latter situation. She appreciated cows and all that they represented but - no. 

She turned around to check that it was as she expected but then saw the young boy running towards them with a bruise on his forehead. 

“What’s going on?” she asked once he was closer, facing him completely and passing the ladder to Tejo without turning. 

“We tried to stop - they were -”

“Take a second, gather yourself,” she instructed in the tone she used on the juniors when she wanted absolute cooperation, “Now, tell me what happened and how long it has been.”

“It’s an elephant gone berserk,” the boy complied, eyes still panicked but matching Saanjh’s calm as she didn’t let him break his gaze away, “A group of men were bringing it up in a cage and it woke up as they were passing our clearing. My sister - she -”

“How long?” Saanjh cut through his building spiral and he took a breath before replying.

“I don’t know, I only saw it when I was bringing my herd back home and then I came here,” he shook his head emphatically and Saanjh nodded once before turning to Tejo. 

“Inform Matamahim and keep the other students from getting out,” she said quickly, eyes flicking towards the entrance before looking back at the teenager who had lost all trace of amusement, “Tell them that we’ll be bringing in some wounded, no known range.”

Tejo nodded, no argument present this time, and Saanjh knew that she would get the job done. Turning back to the shepherd, she gestured at Tejo. 

“Stay with her and get that wound treated, I’ll handle the situation”

“But -”

“Brother, let’s not delay her,” Tejo interjected and Saanjh stepped around the boy to start running in the direction of danger, leaving the disciple to handle her instructions. 

The shepherd watched Saanjh sprinting and followed Tejo with shaky steps but shook his head faintly as they entered Ambaramanila. 

“She’ll need help, won’t she? Can she handle it on her own?”

Tejo smiled quietly at that and rang the hanging bell at the first pillar after the entrance. 

“There’s not much she can’t handle,” she informed and waited for the helpers to arrive at the call, “You don’t have to worry about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ambaramanila literally means- Wind of the sky  
Opa - a way of addressing an older sister figure


	6. Spin - Part 2

They had made it past the creek when he heard it - the furious trumpet that was a little too erratic to be a one-off sound. He could sense his horse hearing it too, her hooves faltering midway between one step and another. 

“Pull back,” he said immediately, putting a hand out to signal the other two. It wasn’t common for Jevadhi to have episodes of berserk elephants with the amount of understanding their leader had of the animals. For this to happen it would be -

“Hunters,” Imay said from beside him and Val looked closer to see two men dragging one away from the rapidly approaching elephant. They had the spears he had seen before, now useless in the face of the danger they had dragged upon themselves. 

“You can’t fight that,” Saakhi said, bringing her stallion to a halt on Val’s right and he turned to see her staring at the unravelling scene with a calculating look, “We should run.”

He agreed, it was the safe choice. There were certain situations that were best left unattended until they were manageable. However, he knew what lay in the direction that the elephant was going and Val couldn’t let it destroy the place without doing something. The students at Ambaramanila were capable and trained but they were still _ kids _to Val. 

“We need to create a perimeter and steer it away,” he said instead, gripping his reins tighter but Saakhi made a disagreeing noise. 

“Rushing into danger isn’t always heroic, sometimes it’s just plain foolish,” she said and Val was about to explain why he couldn’t avoid this when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Turning to his right, he saw the figure and felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush. 

“Who the hell is that?” Imay hissed as the new entrant barrelled past them, feet not touching the ground for more than a hit, black dhoti pants and a simple maroon tie-up shirt being the only visible things at her speed. 

As they watched, she slowed down but kept marching towards the elephant that was now clearly visible outside the shelter of the trees, his eyes flapping with frustrated anger. Val could recognise the animal now, the familiar bell anklet on its front right foot telling him who exactly this was. 

How did he get here from Swatan, he wondered with a new alertness but remained calm as the woman now approaching the animal kept her posture confident but relaxed. 

“She’s gonna get killed,” Imay began but Val raised a palm to gesture him to pipe down. They couldn’t divert attention to themselves. 

Her hands raised, the woman showed her lack of weapons but also began speaking to the elephant, her tone steel wrapped in cotton and a song-like rhythm to her words. It was a memory of old tongue, the chiding lullaby that he had heard from only two people and he was watching one of them staring down the beast she had helped raise. There were questions and reminders intermingled in notes of stern admonishments with soft requests; she never took her eyes off the gaze trained on her by the animal and it was like watching an older sister calming her panicked sibling who had just gotten into a temperamental fit. 

In a way, Val thought it was amusing to watch the past reverse, but he could see the elephant attempt to disobey while also try to focus on her words. 

_ Why are you away from home _ , she was asking in that same lyrical tempo and the elephant seemed to be calming, _ You’re scaring people, aren’t you, my dear? Will you not let us take you back to safety, where there is no harm? Go away from here now, please, don’t hurt yourself like this. _

It sounded like a plea but Val knew her well enough to know the underlying anger that would come out later, at those who had dared to take the animal away from Swatan. 

Right when he thought the situation was under control, a good time having passed and the storm looked like it had passed, he saw it happen before he could react. One of the hunters had come back and Val watched in horror as he blew from his reeds, the darts flying towards the elephant. 

“Saanjh!” Val yelled but she had caught the movement, as late as him, and the elephant yelled in pain, anger surging all over again. 

The hunter was about to blow again and Val tugged on his reins but he saw another horse rush from beside him before he could begin. Back straight and bow drawn, Saakhi didn’t hesitate before shooting at the man, hitting his reed with her arrow. Saanjh didn’t turn to see who shot the arrow but began moving around the animal now, watching his erratic movement as she dodged his swaying bulk. As if matters couldn’t get worse, the hunter was furious with Saakhi’s action and brought out his hidden weighted net, throwing it over the elephant with a triumphant noise. 

In a case of gloating too soon, he was thrown against the closest rock with one turn of the elephant’s fury. 

“Catch,” Saakhi called out and Saanjh turned to see her, catching the thrown sword with precision as she ducked and rolled when the animal tried to charge in its fumbling. Saakhi jumped off her horse and moved forward on foot, her sword gone but still prepared to attack if need came. The weights of the nets were hard to get under the animal’s moving feet and Saakhi watched her back as Saanjh began talking again, her voice raised to get it across. It was difficult this time, the frustration doubled with all the added chaos, but both the women were standing their ground even though their stances were strikingly different. Saakhi had her arrow poised but lowered and a foot back, half her attention on the elephant while the other on the couple of hunters who were approaching stealthily from the elephant’s back. Saanjh had the sword pressed to the ground, back straight and eyes raised to meet the elephant’s beady ones, her grip relaxed on the hilt of the weapon in a way that suggested she wasn’t going to attack. 

It was a battle of wills and dominance but the elephant stopped moving with time, allowing Saanjh to move forward with her sword with a restrained annoyance that was born from fear. Saakhi moved in time, giving the other woman enough space but also ready to strike if something went amiss. Saanjh got closer till she could get her hands on the net and used the sword to cut through them as she continued her words. 

When Saakhi followed closer, the elephant stiffened and Saanjh turned her head in the archer’s direction, giving a subtle shake before waiting till Saakhi dropped her weapon. Saakhi seemed dubious and Val watched her project another step only to pause, eyeing Saanjh for a minute before tossing her bow and arrow a few feet away. 

“How did she do that?” Imay whispered with a sense of awe in his voice. 

Once she had cut through the net, Saanjh pulled at it and helped the elephant shake it off calmly. When she had finally freed it, she reached out and waited till the elephant allowed her to touch him, stroking his trunk as her voice lowered. Saakhi was quiet behind her but the elephant paid no attention to her as he listened to whatever Saanjh was now whispering to him, letting her press her forehead against his trunk for a long minute. 

Val finally moved, seeing that the situation was under control and took his horse towards them, jumping off when he was close enough, cataloguing the situation from the closer view. 

“Are you okay?” he asked and heard Imay jump off his own horse too, scrambling to get to Saakhi. 

Saanjh nodded against the elephant’s trunk before leaning away, looking over her shoulder at him with a small hint of a smile. 

“Of all the things you could bring back, you brought trouble, huh?” she asked and he huffed in amusement, shaking his head as he looked over to see if Saakhi was fine too. 

“Hey!” they heard someone shout and Val turned to see one of the hunters, a young man in mustard and green clothes, stalking towards them with an angered expression, “How dare you take our prey! Get off her right now!”

“Her?” Val asked with a raised brow and the man’s eyes flew to the elephant before he corrected himself. 

“Whatever, it’s our beast,” he demanded, “We did all the hard work and you get to throw it back into the wild? Who do you think you are?”

“You did the hard work?” Imay asked with a sardonic tone, “You couldn’t even warn people of a berserk elephant and were just watching. And where do you get off saying this is your beast?”

“We’re hunters and this is our prey. We caught it fair and square,” the man scoffed and glared at Saanjh, who was still facing the elephant without care, “Just because you said some weird things doesn’t make it yours. Move!”

“This is an animal from Swatan,” Val interjected without rising to the bait, “Hunting is prohibited there.”

“Yeah, well it isn’t when the animal wandered away from your enclosures, is it?” the hunter sneered, taking a step forward and glaring at Saakhi when she stepped to the side, effectively blocking Saanjh from his view, “It’s not your call to tell us what’s allowed here!”

“No, it’s mine,” a voice interfered and all of them turned back to see the source of the command. 

Ammashak Puthriya was a short woman, her burnt-orange blouse projecting shoulders that were used to carry her infamous axe, and the white length of cloth wrapped around her torso doing nothing to hinder her confident steps. In her trademark two-piece saree with its red border and the traditional necklaces forming an armour to the chest, she looked like a controlled force to be reckoned with. The Matamahim or leader of the Jevadhi population, she had no time for trifles and no care for false pretence. 

As she marched towards them with her faithful senior disciples behind her, she didn’t look at those guarding the elephant and instead stared the young hunter down with the stare of a natural huntress. 

“Chief Ammashak,” the hunter looked unsettled for a faltering minute before his chin came up in false bravado, “We were just passing through Jevadhi on our way to Torni. I’m -”

“I know who you are,” Ammashak said with a smooth cut of knife-like precision, “Your father has retired, I see? He didn’t tell me his son was taking over. But it makes sense, the last time I saw him he was hanging upside down from one of our trees. Not quite a conversation stirrer.”

Val saw Saakhi chuckle and shook his head subtly at Imay with his own smile smothered. It was well-known that the people of Jevadhi were independent from the codes that the more ‘refined’ lands followed and hanging a man by his ankles wasn’t far off from a punishment they’d choose. 

The hunter looked indignant but there wasn’t many who dared to be impudent to the leader who could do the same again. He turned an ugly shade of embarrassed anger but spoke again. 

“We were taking this elephant as a present to the Crown Princess of Torni,” he argued, “It would be an insult to not take it after we’ve promised her.”

Val stilled and resisted turning to see the reaction to the statement but then Chief Ammashak answered without pause. 

“You can tell her that Matamahim wishes she finds better use of her time,” the leader replied, “And that we don’t have the inclination to give anybody’s freedom away in the future as well.”

Without waiting to hear his reply, she turned to look at the guests Val had brought, eyes skimming over them before landing on Val himself. 

“Come,” she ordered, “There aren’t hours to waste in a day. You both can rest with us too.”

Val nodded politely, guiding Imay to follow as they turned to leave. He saw Saanjh not looking in the retreating leader’s direction and exhaled, letting her be for the moment. 

As they walked a few steps, he heard a grunt and turned to see the rejected hunter throw a stone at the elephant in frustration. In a beat, Saakhi turned to look at Saanjh and shot out her hand. With one swift move, she grabbed the stick holding Saanjh’s bun in place and pulled it out, turning around to throw it at the stone with unerring accuracy. The disciple guards left Chief Ammashak’s side to rush and grab the hunter even as he began retreating. 

Val looked over from there to see Saanjh and saw her finally turn to stare at Saakhi, her braid having come down from its bun. Saakhi noticed her staring and glanced at her hair before offering a companionable shrug. 

“It works,” she offered as an explanation and Val knew that she had reacted immediately, even though her arrows and bow were still fallen a few feet away. 

Saanjh eyed Saakhi without saying a word before walking towards her. 

“Okay, if you’re offended then - wait,” Saakhi raised her hands as she began explaining but trailed off when Saanjh stepped around her to walk towards the dropped quiver and bow. Bending, she picked them up and took a single arrow from the quiver. 

With one deft snap, she broke it in half and Val heard Imay’s choked laugh but watched as Saanjh calmly gathered her casual plait back into a bun before shoving one half of the arrow into it. The emerald feathered fletching stuck out from her bun and Saanjh walked back to Saakhi. 

“It works,” she quipped before handing the weapon back to the stunned archer and turning to walk back through the path she had come from. 

Val watched Saakhi mouth a few words to herself till Imay went to drag her back and bit back a laugh as they followed Chief Ammashak to Ambaramanila. 


	7. Spin - Part 3

Tejo had understood in the first week of knowing the leaders of Swatan that they were nothing like the teachers or elders of Ambaramanila. They weren’t the same as _ any _ of the loud-mouthed and fun seeking but combative people of Jevadhi. Leader Gunshi was as kind as the first rain of monsoon, always repaying a smile with his own and never hesitating from helping any of the students any time he came by. He was smart too, his wide-set eyes sparkling with interest whenever someone asked him a question about anything in academics. She wasn’t particularly sure _ how _he knew all the things he did but Matamahim held his opinion as valuable too so she was sure that he must have had some worthy experience. 

She was a little confused about what Leader Oorja was thinking half the time he came by, but it was a rare occurrence in itself so she didn’t try to dig too deep into him. His rolling chair, or wheelchair as Hasya constantly corrected her, slipped through the corridors of the place always with a set destination in mind and he didn’t pause to greet most people without cause. He was brave though, Tejo knew that from the approval shining in Matamahim’s face whenever he spoke quietly about something important. 

Her favourite though, was always Saanjh. In the beginning she had wondered why people were insistent on that name instead of what she had once heard from her parents, but the story had come out in between classes and open whispers. Tejo had met Saanjh well into her second month at Ambaramanila but she could still remember the way the defense class had gone. Saanjh didn’t interfere in the classes much, unless specifically suggested by the teachers, but the students always looked forward to the days when it happened. 

Tejo hadn’t seen anybody as cool as Saanjh, if anybody bothered asking her. The fact that she didn’t have to call her ‘Leader Saanjh’ and was allowed to drag her around for mini adventures only sealed that fact. 

Now, watching Saanjh walk through the gate of Ambaramanila with an oddly placed arrow in her hair-bun, Tejo was hit by two questions: Did Saanjh know that she had an arrow in her hair and why didn’t Tejo think of this idea before?

“Is anyone hurt?” Hasya asked as she came scrambling out of the healer’s chambers, her skirt tangling between her ankles. 

“We’re fine,” Leader Gunshi replied with that polite smile that adults didn’t often grace bumbling students with, “Were there any other casualties?”

“Two, but they’re being treated now,” Tejo spoke up, eyes shifting towards the strangers coming behind him, “We didn’t get instruction to prepare for guests, Leader Gunshi.”

“But we can handle it,” Hasya said, with a pointed look at Tejo before offering a respectful greeting to the strangers, “I’ll inform the quarters matron immediately, please freshen up while we arrange for everything necessary.”

“You don’t even know us and you’re sure we’re guests?” the one with a bow slung over her shoulder asked, her eyes judging Hasya with a curious half-quirk of her lips.

“You’re - not?” Hasya faltered and Tejo saw her smile drop awkwardly. 

“Nobody _ said _we are,” the archer commented with a dark brow rising expectantly. 

Leader Gunshi let them talk when Matamahim entered, following her as she began asking him questions in a quiet tone. 

“Well?” the archer prompted and Tejo turned away from watching the leaving elders, seeing their non-guest stare back at them with an ease of a rogue in the way her feet were resting. 

“If you were dangerous, you wouldn’t be standing here freely,” Tejo said, ignoring the sound from her friend as she stared down the entrant, “If you didn’t want to be a guest, you wouldn’t have followed Leader Gunshi either.”

“You’ve heard that the whole thing happened because of hunters though, right?” the archer countered, shifting her bow over her shoulder, an amused look on her face even as her partner shook his head beside her. 

“If you were the hunter, Saanjh would have dragged you here. Probably tied with your bow,” Tejo said bluntly and Hasya attempted to elbow her but the archer’s partner burst out into laughter. 

“So, you got off lightly,” he told the archer who shrugged pleasantly, “We’re Leader Gunshi’s guests, young miss. I’m Imay Por and this is my sister -”

“The non-dangerous one,” the archer offered a two fingered salute and Tejo stared back deadpanned.

“- Saakhi Por,” Imay cleared his throat with a suppressed grin before addressing them again, “We thank you for the offer of hospitality and would appreciate the rest, please.”

“How do we know for sure?” Tejo asked, glancing at Saakhi with a scrutinising look, “Leader Gunshi didn’t say anything, as you pointed out.”

“Aren’t you the smart one,” Saakhi commented in glee before turning around and pointing at Saanjh, who was wiping her hands on the towel placed by the entrance bench, “Okay, ask the elephant-whisperer. Hey!”

Saanjh thanked the disciple who had given her the towel and stepped inside, her eyes finding Tejo’s. 

“My new friend!” Saakhi greeted and moved closer to Saanjh, stopping before she could put an arm around her shoulder, patting her back as she addressed Tejo, “You can ask, I’m with her.”

Saanjh glanced at Tejo and Hasya before moving away from the grinning archer, turning towards the corridor that led to Matamahim’s chambers. 

“Oh come on!” Saakhi called out, still talking to Saanjh as she walked away, “Saanjh!”

“Friend?” Tejo asked suspiciously and Saakhi looked at her before pointing at Saanjh again. 

“See, she’s even wearing my arrow,” she said and Tejo looked over at her quiver to see that the fletching colour was the same, “You believe me now, huh? I can see it on your face, don’t worry, no offence taken.”

“Why is she wearing your arrow?” Hasya asked curiously but Tejo grudgingly relaxed, guiding them inside the place. 

“Where are you from?” Tejo asked before they could reply and Imay handed Hasya his satchel with a grateful nod, “Why did you meet Leader Gunshi?”

“Don’t you mean how?” Saakhi asked and Tejo gave her a dry look that only made her seem more amused. 

“He helped us out at Ujwi,” Imay answered, “Saakhi here had just lost her job -”

“Not my fault,” Saakhi interjected. 

“- and we didn’t have any set plan in mind, so we took his offer of travelling to Swatan,” Imay continued, “He said he had to stop over at Jevadhi before we got there, so we decided to come along.”

“Why did you lose your job?” Tejo asked and Saakhi made a face but shrugged. 

“Somebody died,” she commented with an air that said that she couldn’t care lesser, “Besides, Agapura is pretty set on its rules and they wouldn’t really accept a nomadic knight without more proof than some word.”

“You’re a knight?” Hasya asked excitedly but Tejo turned to frown at Saakhi.

“Agapura?” she repeated with a harsh edge to her voice, “You’re from there?”

“Not really, but it was the last place we were supposed to stay at,” Saakhi said but eyed Tejo carefully, “You don’t like the place?”

“No…it’s nothing,” she replied as she turned away, looking forward as her mind churned, “Why was Saanjh wearing your arrow?”

“Because I saved her life,” Saakhi said proudly and Tejo looked at Imay, who rolled his eyes. 

“She took Leader Saanjh’s hair-stick to throw at a stone,” he said and chuckled at his sister, “Leader Saanjh simply took her due with one of her arrows.”

Hasya laughed along but Tejo came to a standstill and breathed out before turning to stare at Saakhi, meeting her eyes with a shocked expression. 

“You threw away the stick in her bun,” she echoed and Saakhi raised her brows but didn’t refute the statement. She - how could - 

“Is something wrong?” Imay asked carefully and Hasya cleared her throat beside Tejo before explaining. 

“The stick, it’s - well, it’s important to Leader Saanjh,” she said and Saakhi frowned lightly, looking unconcerned in a way that frustrated Tejo even more. 

“I’m sure she can get a new one,” she said, “Probably with the same design too.”

“It’s her mother’s,” Tejo said before she could restrain herself, the words sounding aghast because she knew what it meant. 

“Okay,” Saakhi said slowly, still frowning but still not getting it, “She’s a big girl now, I’m sure her mother won’t scold her for losing a hair stick.”

“Lady Por, you don’t know?” Hasya said and Tejo was still reeling from the shock when her sister revealed in a quiet tone, “Leader Saanjh - well, she doesn’t have the best relation with her mother.”

“It’s a hair-stick, girls,” Saakhi stressed again, even though Tejo could see that Imay was gathering that there was more meaning to it than they had revealed. 

“Saakhi -”

“You’re from Agapura, right?” Tejo heard herself say, feeling her heart break for some frustrating reason, “You said someone died. Who did?”

“Paher Mahir,” Saakhi said cautiously, but her eyes were trained on Tejo now, trying to connect whatever clues were thrown her way, “What’s that got to do with -”

“And Paher Mahir’s kids weren’t there?” Tejo asked calmly.

“His son’s abroad on a voyage,” Saakhi replied, her eyes sharp now, “Kid, what’s going on?”

“And the daughter?”

“What?”

“His daughter,” Tejo repeated, ignoring Hasya’s tug on her arm, “Didn’t you ask about her?”

“She wasn’t there,” Imay replied and Tejo turned to look at him. 

“That’s because,” she said clearly, “She was away too. Very specifically, exiled. Or disowned, as some people call it to be decent.”

“Tejo -” Hasya whispered insistently.

“She doesn’t have the ‘best relation’ with her mother,” Tejo continued, on a roll now, “And all she had from her was a hair-stick.”

“_ Tejo- _”

“The reason Saanjh’s mother won’t scold her for losing a hair-stick is because she won’t know,” Tejo bit through every word and watched it click in Saakhi’s eyes, “Because Paher Minar doesn’t exist for her family anymore.”

“Leader Saanjh,” Hasya said quietly and Tejo turned, following Hasya’s eyes to see the person standing on the other side of the open courtyard, just outside Matamahim’s chambers. 

Tejo felt the blood drain from her face as she realised just how much she had revealed and how much Saanjh must have witnessed, a trusted friend telling unwanted things to virtual strangers. She really was an impulsive fool!

“If you’re done, there’s food waiting,” Saanjh said calmly, not lingering on Tejo and nodded at Imay before glancing back at Saakhi. Tejo felt herself glance at the archer too and saw her stare at Saanjh with a quietly knowing look, not looking away but not prodding either. 

When Saanjh finally walked away, Tejo turned to run after her but heard Saakhi say to her brother. 

“Turns out Minar is definitely more handsome than her brother then.”

She didn’t bother to stop and kept going after Saanjh, hoping that she could make things up to her before Saanjh left for Swatan in the evening. 


	8. Navigate - Part 1

Swatan was a picture of contradictions set against the backdrop of its cloud-kissing hills and dense woods forming Nature’s enclosure for the animals left to roam in freedom. As the group from Jevadhi trotted up the crest of the border, Imay could see the stone monolith signalling the entrance of the village. Painted with a mongoose and a snake twisted around each other, the art was rendered in a thought alien to what was common. The dark snake, a wounded cobra etched in surprising detail, was coiled with its head ducked under the bulk of the mongoose that was facing away from it with eyes raised at the sky. Imay observed that the cobra looked tired at first glance but it’s hood was drawn in a way that signalled alertness, eyes peering towards the ground.

It looked like they were guarding each other, he realised with dawning clarity, these two sworn enemies watching unprotected sides.

“Piba drew that,” Tejo spoke up from where she was riding between the two leaders of Swatan, looking to her right as she seemed suddenly excited, “Isn’t it Piba’s birthday soon? Are we celebrating?”

“Should we?” Leader Gunshi smiled, glancing at Imay and Saakhi as he explained, “Piba is my nephew. The one who left early from Ujwi?”

“I thought it was the boy who met us at Torni,” Saakhi mused, chewing on the piece of sweet grass she had snagged earlier, “What was his name - Ethil?”

“Ezhil,” Saakhi looked inordinately pleased at having gotten the exasperated attention of the person riding beside her, “You know, the one you trusted a teenager with. A teenager you brought from a town you don’t know.”

“Oh, Nami’s smart and Leader Gunshi here trusted the boy too, didn’t he?” Saakhi grinned conspiratorially, leaning off her horse as she pretended to whisper, “I’m not bad with names all the time. Don’t worry, Minar.”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” Tejo demanded and Imay saw her shoot a mildly guilty look at the person she had revealed an unwanted secret about, “You know that’s not what you should call her.”

Their departure from Jevadhi had been awkward for the teenager, who had been surprised when she had been invited despite her gaffe. Imay could see that it wasn’t as much of a mistake as Tejo perceived it to be but for her it was still a point of nervousness. He could see it in the way her eyes kept flitting between Saakhi and Minar.

Paher Minar. Imay was still processing that and he did consider calling her Saanjh but she hadn’t made an issue of Saakhi constantly calling her by the other name. Not yet, at least. Even though Imay could see that Saakhi was using her name way more than any person would need to.

He really hoped they’d last at Swatan for more than one day, the way his sister was prodding at every available hornet’s nest.

They weren’t greeted by anyone at the arched entrance, the bent wooden gate unattended, but Imay saw Leader Gunshi get off his horse and walk towards the right side of the fence. As they watched, he removed a thin strip of wood from his inner jacket and pressed it in the gap that seemed the same as the others but accommodated the wood neatly. After being satisfied that it had locked into place, he led his horse through the entrance and the others followed.

“Is this a ritual?” Imay asked as he glanced over his shoulder at the fence they had crossed.

“Safety trip,” Saakhi replied and he looked at her, following her finger to see the thin barbs of venomous thorns embedded under the arch, which he presumed would have dropped onto them if the key hadn’t been set.

“That would have been a warm welcome,” he muttered to himself and his sister ignored him to jump off her horse when the others did.

The actual village truly did look warm, masterfully built houses dotted with dyed art at entrances, fire burning at lamp posts to cast lively shadows. There were ramps of wood paved alongside the pathways, cloth lines strung across roofs and between them, sounds of metal and laughter echoing even as they came closer. There was someone jogging up to meet them from the sunken valley a few throws away, pottery clay smeared up long arms with dark hair half gathered in a top-knot and the rest falling down the nape. He wiped his palms on his shirt as he came near, a pleasant nod at Leader Gunshi before making a bee-line to Minar. His light eyes looked her over quickly before he joined his left thumb and index finger to make an enquiring gesture. Minar copied the gesture with a tired nod and it made his shoulders ease down before he pressed his palm against her forehead to gently push at it with a chiding expression.

“I told you I’d be back with Val,” Minar ducked the second attempt and raised her palms in mock surrender, “Alright, drop it, come on. Is Oorja home?”

The man rolled his eyes at her but pointed behind him with a thumb at Leader Gunshi, his eyes landing on Imay before he looked at Minar again.

“Not me,” she answered the obvious question, jerking her head in Leader Gunshi’s direction, “He picked them up at Ujwi. It’s a long story.”

“This is Piba,” Leader Gunshi introduced, coming forward to hand his nephew the reins of his horse, “Piba, this is Saakhi Por and her brother Imay. They’re our guests.”

Piba had a face that was made to make people feel warm, courteous in the half-smile he graced them with and an easy acceptance of their presence in the way he faced them without the edge of suspicion that straightened spines when strangers met. He began addressing them after wiping his palms on his shirt one more time.

“I hope you had a favourable journey,” Minar spoke as Piba’s fingers shaped into words, her voice gliding smoothly over his intentions with an ease that spoke of familiarity and permitted practice, “This is a pleasant season to be at Swatan and we’re glad you could join us. Am I right to presume that you’re knights?”

“She is,” Imay replied before Saakhi could, feeling like he was a bumbling schoolboy in front of a refined senior who was greeting him just before he would go over to charm a crowd with a natural grace, “I’m a navigator. We’re both nomads.”

“Adventurers!” Piba’s eyes twinkled with impressed excitement and Imay didn’t know anything remotely exciting about them to get this reaction but he wasn’t complaining, “Lady Por, you use a sword _ and _a bow with ease? Leader Oorja will be impressed. The only other people here who can wield more than one weapon with equal expertise are him and this one here.”

Minar didn’t modulate the same pride as was on his face but Saakhi raised her brow curiously.

“More than one weapon, huh?” she asked, beginning to gesture on her own as she spoke, “I thought she didn’t use any weapon. Especially when she came to stop a mad elephant with no defence in hand.”

“You know the language?” Minar asked, ignoring the surprised glance Piba shot her, clearly wanting to know more details about the elephant incident.

“Learnt a few things while travelling,” Saakhi quipped, moving a step forward when Sahas grunted impatiently behind her, “I definitely don’t know your language of talking to animals though. Maybe they’d like me more if I learnt _ that _?”

Minar’s face expressed her doubt but she stepped from beside Piba, reaching Sahas and projecting her movement before gently cupping his neck. Saakhi didn’t warn her that Sahas had a habit of biting when annoyed but the horse didn’t seem averse to the new person touching him, instead looked curious. When Minar scratched under his neck, he looked downright happy and Saakhi let out a huff of impressed interest.

“You’re something else, Paher Minar,” she observed and Imay noted Piba shooting her a wary look, one even more curious than the one he had when he had heard about the elephant.

“Aren’t you worried about the girl you left in Ezhil’s care?” Tejo spoke up from behind them, purposely butting in to make herself be known and Piba turned his attention to her with a wider smile.

“Tejo, you came,” his arms opened enough for the girl to squeeze in a hug and he pulled back after a minute to continue, “Did you finally clear your tests?”

“You don’t have to continue translating,” Minar informed and Imay realised that he had picked up when she had stopped, “I was translating in case you both didn’t know. Tejo knows. And no, she didn’t clear yet.”

“I did!” Tejo refuted but Piba didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Did Nami reach here safe?” Imay asked at the reminder and Piba nodded, looking at Leader Gunshi.

“You could go check on her,” the older man told Imay as he looked over his shoulder, “We should go meet Oorja. Piba, could you guide Imay and Saakhi to the guest house?”

“Actually, I’ll come with you,” Saakhi interjected and shared a look with Imay looking back at Leader Gunshi when he nodded, “Might be a good thing to meet the third leader before we settle in. Imay can handle the kid.”

Minar raised a brow at that but didn’t comment, letting Piba guide Imay and Tejo to rest. When Imay looked over his shoulder, he saw Leader Gunshi walking in the front and Saakhi walking beside Minar. It didn’t surprise him that Minar was now holding the reins of both her own horse and Sahas, while Saakhi attempted to engage her in a one-sided conversation.

Turning back to Piba, Imay exhaled as he let himself be guided to their new rest stop. He hoped Nami wouldn’t kill him any worse than he suspected Paher Minar was going to kill Saakhi if he knew his sister in any way.

“So,” he spoke to their guide as they trudged along the path, “I hear your birthday’s coming up soon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are the best, please leave them!


	9. Navigate - Part 2

Val left Saakhi and Minar outside, letting them handle the horses as he entered the home he shared with Oorja. It was closer to the workshop and had a clear view of the training field, a compromise of both their interests. It wasn’t that he was worried about Oorja refusing the presence of the Por siblings, but Val had heard enough times from Minar that his tendency to drag in people he thought needed help could always do with a little warning.

It was ironic, coming from her considering her history with the same habit, but he knew well what she meant. It was also a little exciting, to finally call her Minar again.

“You look happy,” a voice broke him out of his thoughts and Val saw Oorja roll in, his beard having grown out a little more from the last time they’d seen each other. The parchment shade of his vest was strikingly contrast to his skin and made him more defined than he already was. Some people considered that he drew eyeballs due to how he moved but Val knew that most of it was because of how he looked.

In control. Commanding.

“I had a good trip,” he replied, waiting until Oorja had come closer before leaning down to press his forehead against his, grinning at the raised brow, “You’ve been working harder than usual, I see. The new ramps look nice.”

“They’re just extensions,” Oorja brushed it off and leaned back to look at him scrutinisingly, “Ezhil was right, wasn’t he? You’ve brought guests.”

“You’ll like them,” Val declared as he moved around the other man to go hang up his satchel, “The older one even helped us against an elephant at Jevadhi. Minar had it under control for a while but then things went out of hand and Saakhi had her back. She’s a pretty good shot.”

He didn’t hear a reply and turned around to see Oorja frowning at him.

“She isn’t objecting to Saakhi calling her that, so I figure that we can get back to Minar too,” he explained with a shrug as he walked back to the centre of the room, “Besides, you’ve heard about Paher Mahir.”

“They’re really from Agapura?” Oorja cut to the heart of the matter and Val knew what he was asking. It always came down to this for him, this unnamed fear that was only superimposed by a quiet fury that had changed forms over the years but still burned low.

“They’re nomads,” he answered and met Oorja’s gaze without judgement, “Mahir died before Saakhi could join her job and they weren’t sent to get anyone.”

A tumble of noise from outside alerted them and Val moved to the window, hearing Oorja come up beside him to check.

“Ohhh, that’s disgusting,” Saakhi ducked behind Minar, one hand clutching a shoulder as she hid her face behind the woman holding a wide basin, “Drop it, just drop it.”

“If I drop it, they’ll come out,” Minar tried to move forward and ended up dragging Saakhi with her, looking over her shoulder, “It’s just snakes, don’t tell me you’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re peeling off!” Saakhi moved forward and caught sight of the contents of the basin before hiding her face behind Minar’s shoulder again, making a gagging sound, “Why would anyone think this is normal?”

“They’re _ shedding _ ,” Minar corrected as she balanced the basin when she was being pulled at, “It’s natural for them to do this and we’re just helping them with the water. I told you to stay with the horses, you’re going to make me drop this and then it’s going to be a mess you _ really _can’t handle.”

“I can handle anything,” Saakhi replied even if her voice clearly said otherwise as she didn’t let go of her death-grip on Minar’s shoulder but allowed her to put the basin down by the corner, scrunching up her face as they finally moved away. Once they had walked a few feet back, Saakhi pretended like she hadn’t been on the verge of pulling Minar’s arm out of the socket a few minutes ago, rubbing her palms together as she looked around.

“So,” Saakhi clapped her hands lightly as she faced an unimpressed Minar again, “What’s Leader Oorja like? Think I’ll be able to impress him?”

Minar didn’t say anything but Saakhi held her hands behind her back, facing the pathway to the house, parallel to her companion.

“I’m sure I will,” she continued talking, either to herself or an unresponsive Minar, “I mean, Gunshi was the one who invited us and I managed to impress you already.”

Minar turned her face just enough to deliver a mildly incredulous look and Saakhi patted her shoulder.

“I saw you eye my bow on our way over, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” she assured, shifting a step closer to bump her shoulder but Minar shifted one farther smoothly, “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about the hair-stick. You are, aren’t you?”

When Minar simply shook her head and began tightening her waist-cloth, Saakhi sighed theatrically.

“And here I thought Paher Minar would be fair,” she tutted and pointed to Minar’s hair when she looked over, “You already took compensation for it with my arrow, didn’t you?”

“I’m not mad,” Minar said clearly but Saakhi raised a palm, nodding with an acquiescing expression.

“Fine, fine, I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up,” she declared and reached into her waist-coat’s pocket, frowning as she looked down at it, “Wait, where did it go?”

Minar raised her brows as she looked at Saakhi patting herself down.

“No, I’m serious,” Saakhi assured when she looked up, “I had it with me two days ago. Where’s the damn thing -”

“Was it valuable?” Minar asked but Saakhi shook her head before nodding.

“I’m not sure, it didn’t work for me,” she said absently as she peered into her pocket once again, “But it was fascinating and cool.”

Oorja blinked when Val held out a circular object in front of him and looked at it closer to notice what it was.

“Is this -”

“The same thing she dropped at Agapura all those years ago? Yes,” Val nodded as he glanced at it in his palm, “I took it off Imay when I noticed that he picked it up from Saakhi. They thought it was a broken compass.”

Oorja stared at it before glancing out the window again, observing Saakhi engaging Minar in another thread of conversation now, noting Minar not giving much fodder but not moving away either.

He knew that Mahir might not have sent anyone to get her, or anyone from Swatan. The man had died of a ‘heart failure’ according to what Val had learned. Piba had related how they had found conflicting rumours at Ujwi, talks about the missing son and the lack of clarity from the family spinning tales everywhere. Nobody knew what the truth was anymore but nobody was willing to ask the hard questions. Nobody was willing to know truths that displeased them, no matter what the cost it would incur.

Some things never changed, Oorja thought to himself as he watched Minar’s face through the window.

It’s not longer than he can remember because his memory is the only thing solid enough to rival his resolve. He can recall the darkness closing in on them, the handful put off on execution and left to wait in the room fit for half their number. It had been the sweat trickling down his shoulders and down his bleeding back that stood out, annoying him more than the fate he was to meet. The clouds hadn’t burst open and the heat hadn’t dissipated, both mixing into the worst weather for the imprisoned.

The lights had been snuffed out when they had dragged Val in the last batch and his teeth still tasted of blood he had drawn in a last-ditch attempt. He was a bored wolf in the dark.

The young princess had reminded him of a drowned lamb when she had stepped in. But she had brought light, and her cheeks were already wet before she had seen them completely. She had looked one step from cracking to him.

She had carried him out with nothing but strength. And then continued to carry them till the room was empty.

He was still somewhere a tamed wolf and she was still sometimes that wild lamb, an unchanged softness that shook the fiercest halls of stone. That hadn’t died, even when she had killed every other part of her life for them. He wouldn’t forget that and wouldn’t forgive on her behalf either, making her right beside Val on his pedestals.

Oorja knew that Agapura was not to be trusted but he would stand beside Minar if she went back, not because he was loyal but because he was selfish. He couldn’t lose any more family.

“Are you going to come in anytime soon?” he called out and saw both the women pause their conversation to turn around. Minar offered a fond smile and Oorja swallowed his fears as he waved them in, hoping that this wasn’t fate waiting to throw history back at them.


	10. Navigate - Part 3

The walls of Toran Kota were never dull. It had been the first thing to annoy her about her new home when she had come in as the daughter-in-law of the place. There was no visible sign of imperfection, no space for shadow to breathe. The bright blue drapes adorned every possible corner they could find to decorate, the silver sewn into it in rows of miniature rings orbiting around each other in loops.

Mudhra had been the crown princess of Torni for a decade now and she still had moments when she wished she could add bits of holes or stains to them.

Tuhina wished she had such trivial urges back at Agapura. Her most common one involved fire and it was on a different level of darkly humourous, when the entire world believed that it had been a fire that had begun the ruin of her sanity. She didn’t care about correcting them.

As they sat facing each other, Tuhina rested her folded leg against the pale blue bolster at the end of her settee. It would take her niece a while before she made her move, she remembered from experience. Mahir said that she got it from his older brother, the dichotomy of caution and chaos.

Well, used to say, she corrected absently in her mind.

“I heard some news,” Mudhra said in that tone she once used to bring when she had seen her cousins hatch a plan to jump over the walls in the middle of the night. The rook moved on the board and Mudhra’s bangles clinked gently as she withdrew her hand, placing it back on her lap elegantly. Her azure dupatta had slid down to her shoulder from her hair and now sat against her embellished blouse with a butterfly’s touch away from drifting to the ground. Tuhina kept her glance on the board and took a sip from her glass of wine before placing it back on the wooden table beside her. The crown princess was smarter than she was before but she was still impatient, the restlessness of a domestic parrot with memory of the sky.

Tuhina had groomed her wings in golden cages for years now and was willing to out-wait the bait of her niece.

The knight slid through the board and Tuhina looked up with a practiced ease of calm. Mudhra’s brows creased at the move before she smoothed them out, offering her aunt a pleasant smile.

“You remember the gift I was supposed to receive from the hunters who had the favour from us a while ago?” she continued, bringing up her knee to rest her elbow on it, her sari moulding itself to the new position, “I got news yesterday that they were unable to bring it.”

“I’m sure they can make up for disappointing you,” Tuhina commented and Mudhra laughed, shaking her head as she leaned over to pick a grape from the pile of fruit beside her.

“It wasn’t disappointing,” the princess insisted, and Tuhina chose to ignore the blatant lie in favour of letting the news come out further, “I was actually glad that they hadn’t brought it. What would I do with an elephant?”

The same thing people did with unnecessary gifts. The older queen offered a hint of an agreeing smile instead.

“He said something interesting though,” Mudhra chewed on her grape as she perused her choices of moves, “Apparently it was an animal of Swatan that they had hunted.”

Tuhina had suspected something on these lines when she had been asked for the game. She had come to Torni to spend a month in ‘safety’ until they received news from Agapura of it being right for the Queen to return. She had initially been asked to stay with Mahir’s relatives but had refused, making an excuse of wanting to visit her niece instead. It was easy to make people listen when you were a new widow, grief making men weak to requests.

It hadn’t been a request but she wasn’t particular about fixing misconceptions as long as she got her peace. She would wait until Mogh returned and then -

And then the rest of their life.

Swatan wasn’t on the list of places she considered visiting in that life plan.

“They lost control of the beast mid-travel,” Mudhra spoke, either oblivious to the tension or acutely aware of it, “Weak tranquilisers, I suppose. When it went berserk, they were well into Jevadhi. What a disaster!”

“They came back alive to tell you the story,” Tuhina commented as she watched Mudhra make her move, a wave of her hand dismissing that interruption.

“Yes, yes, but they wouldn’t have if the animal hadn’t been stopped in time,” she insisted as she leaned back against her bolster, “By a single woman, apparently. She went up against the mad beast on her own and managed to calm it down. Well, there was an archer involved too, he said, but she didn’t do much.”

Tuhina knew who the person in question was and hummed appreciatively.

“Chief Ammashak must have been cross when she found out,” she suggested and noted the way Mudhra’s face pinkened a little. Ah, so her mother had said something about the crown princess of Torni. Tuhina knew her mother’s tongue well enough and the calculation of what the situation must have been like went clearly through her mind. She certainly hadn’t spared words when Mahir had been alive.

It was oddly amusing that she got along well with her granddaughter without much difficulty. She hadn’t once, a long while ago, when the entire world had found Agapura’s princess agreeable.

But even then, Minar had never been restricted from visiting Jevadhi. The same courtesy hadn’t been extended to both Mahir and Tuhina at different points of time.

It was regrettable that Mogh was more like Tuhina in that aspect now.

“We’re at a stalemate,” Tuhina said and Mudhra frowned before looking down at the board between them. It seemed like the younger woman had hoped to make this conversation last longer.

“I’m sure you’ll find some gift that’s more valuable than this, Mudhra,” Tuhina reached over to pat her hand once before getting to her feet gracefully, “I should get back to my chambers. I’m still in mourning, after all. Exceeding my limits of entertainment would be disgraceful.”

“It’s been ten years,” her niece spoke up as she was about to retire from the room, the voice laced with a nurtured regret and Tuhina knew that the regret wasn’t for her. It was for the sister that Mudhra yearned for again. They were all different, all the roles she had once represented to a family that was no longer the same.

“With uncle gone, can’t she -,” Mudhra paused, retracing her words among discarded suggestions, “Apparently the archer threw your hair-stick while deflecting an attack. It was still with her. I’ve retrieved it from him as compensation for the broken promise. My brother-in-law will be passing through that area a few days later, I could send it with him? We could return it to her.”

Return. Return what, Tuhina wondered. What could they possibly return to her daughter? A decade? Her father’s last days? Her reputation? All in the form of a measly stick of worthless silver?

“I hope you warn your brother-in-law of what Swatan is,” she said as reply, not giving in to the urge to face Mudhra as she said it, “He might not like those he meets. And I doubt they would too.”

“He’s but a child,” Mudhra persisted, knowing that the teenager wouldn’t know of anything close to the truth and was more perceptible to what he was told, “Besides, Yaali will be travelling with him and she could -”

Tuhina began laughing before the sentence could be completed, her voice harsh against the quiet of the echoing hall.

“Yaali?” she asked, shaking her head in continued laughter that wasn’t remotely in good humour, “Oh Mudhra, if you wish to invite trouble, there couldn’t be a better way to do it. But why should I stop you? No, please, do as you see right. As you said, it’s been ten years and maybe my memory fails me more after my husband’s death. Let the young Prabhat princess be your messenger and let her message be befitting her history with the one you send her to. I do not have any thoughts on the matter, just as I do not have any decisions to make in your land. Give my regards to your envoys and let there be the line of my regard for the journey. Anyone else, I do not know and do not care to know about today.”

Paher Mudhra Lamhan watched her aunt walk out the room without a hint of regret or struggle, no sign of hurt heart at the possible news of someone she had once held dear. Though Mudhra had been the oldest, she had still been Paher Mahir’s brother’s daughter, his foster responsibility after her parents had passed and she had been old enough to recognise that. Neither Mogh nor Minar did though, and despite their boundaries, Mudhra still had nostalgia threaten her when she thought of her cousins. Their better times.

She wondered what Tuhina Ammashak was made of, that she could feel none of it even though she was so close to someone who was probably her only family left.

After a moment Mudhra threw away the bitter curiosity and focused on moving forward with her plan to send an offer to her estranged cousin, hoping to ease her pain from her father’s passing. It would still be something, even if Tuhina herself would never go.

She was after all the Queen, the woman Mudhra could still remember raising a burning sword against her defiant but bruised daughter in the darkness of a screaming night.


	11. Protocol - Part 1

The first batch of training ended with the cry of the rooster, a sign for the next group to be ready without prompting. Oorja was responsible for the beginning, reaching the carefully cordoned training ground to greet the moon farewell as he recognised it as the crack of dawn. None of the younger ones ever came to his class, hoping against hope that the rooster would choke to death or maybe just fall asleep enough for them to complete their dreams. The only silver lining to their allotted set was that it was overseen by Minar, who wouldn’t make them march into the woods if they missed a minute in punctuality. 

The fact that she used more creative methods as consequences of tardiness was still a strong deterrent but subtle.

“Bend your waist not your back,” Ezhil heard as he ran in, combing his fingers through his hair and cursing under his breath when he saw that the session had already begun. The regular exercises were being handled by Tejo, who was busy leading the group through the motions herself. It was supposed to be his turn to lead and this only meant that he was going to face extra trouble later. Maybe Tejo being his stand-in was the punishment in itself, he considered and schooled his face to neutral when the group turned for the snake curve. 

“Are you going to keep wasting time or start?” Minar commented without turning back from where she was guiding Nami into the correct elephant posture. Imay was following her, copying the movements a bit better than Nami was, and his eyes didn’t stray when their instructor spoke. Nami’s almost did but she looked red in the face and determined to not fall behind. Ezhil bent down to the ground, touching it before touching his chest and entered the arena, moving around the usual class now finishing their preliminary stretches. He caught sight of Saakhi lounging on the veranda of the inner hall, chewing a stick idly as she waved at him. He nodded at her before joining Tejo, going about his routine salutations at the side. 

Training was on varying scales for all the residents of Swatan, preliminarily for fitness though his mother said that it was another way of bringing people together. She took the first shift, perfectly fine with Oorja’s drills before she would go with the others to collect the coconut palm leaves needed to weave. Ezhil trained to become a knight some day. Not one for any leader but a rogue, fighting for anyone who needed help. He’d make a name for himself that way. 

“Ezhil and Tejo,” Minar decided a while later, as the sun descended on them with a considerably gentle warmth. They were gathered in a circle, waiting on the pairing to spar. Toya, Minar’s pet squirrel from hell, had found his way to her from wherever he spent his night and she ignored him cuddling against her arm as she sat on the upturned wooden tub near the veranda. Tejo took a deep breath before stepping forward and Ezhil mirrored her, both of them walking toward the centre of the ground before turning to Minar to offer their respect first. She reached down beside her feet and picked up two short poles, throwing at them as their weapons. They caught it in one hand and moved to face each other, both clad in their warrior-style dhotis and barefoot. Tejo’s eyes were sharp but calm and Ezhil waited for the signal, his right palm gripping his pole lightly.

At Minar’s crack with her own pole, they began, sticks coming up to hit in the air. They’d transition to swords and shields if they had time, or have those in the next session. Ezhil preferred his sword to the stick, liking the grip of the handle much better than the hard reed. His arms locked as he blocked a hit, bending backwards before pushing off and advancing. Tejo was quick, her feet faster than her arms and she used it to her benefit just enough to distract the opponent from catching on to her disadvantage. The mud pooled between his toes as he kicked off to use a leaping hit and Tejo moved with the projectile, turning his stick away from her head with her own counter. She’d tire him out before attacking from her side, he knew this. Her wrist was her weak spot even if her upper arm strength kept her from backing away against blows. 

He bit back a flinch when her stick swept under his feet and jumped in time, keeping his balance as he landed on the ground to block the blow to his side. He really didn’t want to lose today.

Five minutes later, he refused to look at Tejo as he surrendered his stick to a junior, in no mood to see her gloating at the victory. 

“You’d do better if you came to class on time,” she said nevertheless as they moved back to their spots in the outer circle, watching the next set take cue to fight. 

“Is that why you never clear your tests at Jevadhi?” he muttered in reply, tying his hands behind his back and getting into place beside Nami. 

“I would gladly swap places with you and let you clear Matamahim’s tests,” Tejo shot back, her white shirt dusted with the mud from the ground, “Besides, practical training is so much better.”

“What training? We never get scored or compete, all we do is routines,” Ezhil side-eyed Minar and looked forward, “Besides, I’d rather get trained by someone who actually was a professional. Like a real knight.”

“I think she’s good,” Nami spoke up and he shot her a glance to see her excitedly watch the match, “She’s straightforward, helpful, and disciplined. Plus she was a princess.”

“Exactly,” Ezhil snorted lightly, “A princess. Not a knight or a warrior. Now, Saakhi, she’s a real knight. She was invited by the Aga Angara to join his troop too, wasn’t she?”

“That’s not even a comparison,” Tejo shot back in a hissed whisper, always with her defence of her favourite senior, “You’re just annoyed because you lost today.”

“I bet Saakhi would beat her in half our time,” Ezhil claimed confidently, “You can’t put them on the same level.”

“I agree,” they heard and all three of them startled before turning to see a grinning Saakhi eavesdropping on them. She waved at Tejo cheekily before turning to Ezhil.

“How much are you betting?”

“What?”

“You said you’d bet,” she explained, continuing even as the rest of the class now paid attention to the new commotion, “How much?”

Ezhil looked over at Minar but she was focused on the pair doing their routine, one hand idly scratching at Toya’s colourful fur. It was a giant compared to the common squirrels, an imprint of the rainbow through a dark base with a long tail that would specifically startle him when it brushed past him on occasion. 

“You can’t bet coins,” Tejo reminded him with a quick look Minar’s way, “Are you crazy?”

“Not confident enough?” Saakhi raised her brow at the teenager and Ezhil grinned, seeing the way it riled Tejo up, “I’m up for food if not coins.”

“One basket of jackfruit,” he wagered, adding when Saakhi squinted at him, “Peeled and cleaned.”

Saakhi raised her hand to offer him a high five and both of them looked at Tejo expectantly. Nami was looking between them with a curious expression but she had drifted closer to Tejo during the conversation. 

“Let’s do it,” she insisted, bumping her shoulder against the student from Jevadhi, “I’ll help you.”

Tejo looked over her shoulder at Minar for a second before exhaling and turning back to face them. She nodded and stuck out her hand, shaking it firmly when Saakhi agreed. 

“Teacher Minar!” Saakhi called out and raised her hand to make the others pause as she walked through the ground towards the trainer sitting on the veranda, “How about we make the class a bit more interesting? I’ve just got a fascinating suggestion and I’d like to see how it goes.”

Minar eyed her before shooting a look towards the troublemakers who had placed the wager. Ezhil kept his poker face but felt Tejo widen her stance beside him. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun and the kids will get a real feel of a fight,” Saakhi insisted, waggling her fingers at Imay till he threw the nearest stick for her to catch, “Besides, they’ll learn better if they see their teacher face someone worth a match.”

“This isn’t to fight,” Minar reminded, tilting her head up to consider the challenging smirk thrown her way, “Training is to be prepared. Not flaunt.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” Saakhi countered and now the others were getting interested too, looking amongst themselves, “Do you need an official challenge? Because I think your students might be embarrassed if you walked away from a perfectly reasonable training opportunity.”

The murmurs were hushed but clear and Minar didn’t look fazed by them, instead looking over to Imay who simply shrugged his shoulder with an amused quirk of his lips. When Saakhi didn’t budge, Minar finally got up, Toya scurrying away from her at the movement. Picking up a pole from the ground, she straightened up and moved forward to the middle of the ground. 

“Do we need rules?” Saakhi asked as they stood against each other, one wrist resting over the pole as she tapped her fingers against her thigh. Minar held her stick in her right, her shoulders at ease and in line with the calm focus in her eyes. 

“Maybe don’t die,” Imay suggested from the sideline and Saakhi pointed at him with a nod before hefting the pole into her hand. 

“Good rule,” she agreed and got into position, a bright glint in her eyes, “Ezhil, keep score, will you?”

Minar was taller than Saakhi and it was the first thing he noted well when they began the match. Her shoulders were wide, arms built to lift heavyweights as they showed outline through her kurta’s sleeves. Saakhi’s fingers were deft and controlled as they spun the stick every which way needed to shield and deliver, alternating between sharp and subtle. They were a contradiction in sight, Saakhi ducking and bending with a skilled ease in flexibility while Minar cut through speed with stable feet. It was volatile air clashing against solid soil and Ezhil heard a few whoops from the others with every successful shot. 

When Saakhi threw her stick to the ground as she rolled to escape a hit, she picked up the sword placed in the training pile and got back to her feet. Minar didn’t flinch at the change in weapon and shifted her grip on her stick at the double spin attack, blocking the swifter speed without complaint. 

“That’s unfair!” Tejo commented and Ezhil disagreed.

“That’s clever,” he pointed out. Minar bent over backward to miss a clean slash and pressed her palms against the ground to jump back onto her feet, flicking her feet up to toss the training mace nearby. Saakhi charged ahead and let out a noise of appreciation at the smooth curve that put Minar on her side, perfect for a hit against her legs. 

“Envoy from Torni!”

Ezhil watched Saakhi take advantage of the sudden disruption and sweep Minar’s feet from under her. They were almost on the ground when Minar caught hold of Saakhi’s arm, twisted around and turned to land on top of her instead on the ground herself. 

Looking up, she saw the messenger and leaned back, still sitting atop Saakhi. 

“Who?” she asked and Saakhi huffed out a rush of breath as she turned to see the messenger too. 

“The younger Lamhan, Saneh Jora,” the boy said, eyes worried, “And the crown princess of Odho is with him too.”

“Princess Yaali?” Imay asked as he stood up with the others who had settled down to watch the match, looking surprised when Ezhil saw him.

The messenger nodded and Ezhil frowned at Tejo as he wondered why Torni’s people were at Swatan. He definitely didn’t want to know why Yaali Lavana was there with them. 

Minar nodded and looked around at her class. 

“Everybody, get back to work,” she ordered and nobody disobeyed, dispersing without much delay. Ezhil, Tejo, and Nami stayed behind and walked towards Imay. 

Saakhi shared a look with her brother before watching Minar get off her, getting to her feet on her own. Minar didn’t wait for them and left with a grim expression, her shoulders tense now. 

“You lost,” Tejo pointed out and Saakhi let out a distracted hum before offering them a wave of her fingers. 

“Technically he did,” she said and Ezhil sputtered but she was already jogging away after Minar, Imay following at a slower pace. Tejo let him be annoyed for a second before holding Nami’s hand as she led them to the main gate, ready to see what this new development really meant. 

When they got to the gate, the leaders were already there and Minar was making her way to stand beside them. Saakhi was a few feet behind, sharing whispers with her brother even as she watched the leaders with an alertness that belied her casual stance. Piba was behind Leader Gunshi, holding a stack of wood and he didn’t budge when the Por siblings moved over to stand beside him. 

On the other side of the gate stood the young prince of Torni, on his chestnut horse and the regal blue garments magnificent under the clear sky. To his right was the main guard, an intimidating looking man who was glaring holes into everyone he saw. To Saneh Jora’s left was a white stallion and atop that sat the frost princess herself. 

Yaali Prabhat looked resplendent in her black and red clothes, her favoured oval ruby resting placidly in the forehead jewellery that covered her hair parting with silver filigree work. Though her appearance projected calm, her stature and poise screamed distance in a way that would cost a foolish man too high if he were to ignore. The gossip of her being a personification of judgement wasn’t too far off with the way her eyes stared straight ahead. 

It didn’t bode well, Ezhil thought to himself, that her gaze was centred on Minar and nobody else. 

* * *


	12. Protocol - Part 2

The air had an ability to warn of forthcoming omens, Saakhi believed. Fragrance of moss before a drying well, rotting rice preceding fermentation houses, fertile earth before the rain - it was reliable to her tongue. 

All she could taste in the air entering her lungs right now was a regretful danger. It hit with a bitterness to the back of her throat. 

When neither side spoke for a minute too long, Val Gunshi cleared his throat and folded his hands in greeting, addressing the uninvited guests with a formal smile. 

“This is a pleasant surprise, Princess, young Prince,” he didn’t move from beside Oorja but kept his body language welcoming, “Swatan did not expect your arrival at such early hours. We hope it is a good news that brings you to our home.”

“My sister-in-law, the crown princess of Torni, sends her best wishes and asked us to bring you gifts of friendship,” the young prince announced, his turquoise turban bejewelled with a line of pearls at its borders. He was no older than Tejo, closer to Nami’s age if accurate, but his chin jutted with a show of importance that spoke less of confidence and more of need for dominance. His royal dagger was sheathed at waist and Saakhi absently wondered if he ever used it, the polish spotless on it. 

“Gifts, my ass,” Ezhil muttered from behind and Saakhi heard him muffle a yelp when his mother presumably pinched his arm. 

She could see the small clutter of trunks and drums along with many other things resting behind the first line of guests. They were a small troop, four important ones and about ten helpers. 

“Do we not get a welcome?” the royal guard asked and his tone suggested veiled threat, raising hackles in the fast gathering crowd of Swatan’s residents. However, Val stepped forward before any further comment and began walking towards the other side of the gate. Without prompting, Piba followed him while Minar inched closer to Oorja. From her view Saakhi could see the way Minar’s hand gently brushed the arm of her friend’s chair, unnoticeable to those who weren’t observing too keenly. She stood there while Val unlocked the safety measure and gestured for the guests to enter, looking at the guard calmly. 

“We are always happy to have friends,” he assured and Saakhi admired the pointed message in the polite declaration. 

As the crowd parted to let them in, Saakhi moved with Imay to stand beside Minar and Oorja. She didn’t know if it was a trick of the sun but she could swear that Princess Yaali’s gaze shifted to linger on her for a second after a look at Minar. 

“Oh,” the princess paused as they were a few feet into Swatan and turned to look over her shoulder directly at Minar, “We also brought the finest cattle from Torni. They seem to have trouble coming in though. Could one of you please help our people with that? Perhaps, Paher Min- ah, Saanjh, wasn’t it?”

Saakhi felt Minar stiffen slightly, still subtle compared to the way Tejo exchanged a worried look with Piba. However, Minar nodded wordlessly before turning around to go help the cattle come in as the rest of them walked in. 

“You go in,” Saakhi told Imay quietly as she looked between the princess and Minar, “I’ll come in a bit.”

Imay didn’t tell her to be careful but nodded and left with the leaders, following them to the central camp area where the most important meetings were held. Saakhi walked out of the gate and jogged to reach where Minar was walking towards the helpers who were trying to drag the cattle in. Cattle was a tame word for what those were, Saakhi thought as she took a look at their built and painted horns. 

Minar paused a few feet away from them and Saakhi slowed to a halt, looking over to see the woman’s face try hard to not turn sallow. Her hands were curling into fists at her side and her throat worked a second, swallowing hard. 

“I’m guessing you don’t like cows?” she guessed as she looked back at the supposed gift before glancing at Minar, who was slowly uncurling her fists, “Is that why all the cattle inside have bells on their horns?”

Instead of answering, Minar walked closer and Saakhi followed her, putting herself near the cows as they helped herd them inside. If Minar noticed her doing so, she didn’t say anything but also didn’t look like she was going to break her teeth by gritting. 

At the compact meeting hall nobody asked Saakhi to leave, so she tagged along and sat beside Piba, eyes straying to the princess of Odho. The princess for her part kept her focus on the leaders and was the picture of decorum but Saakhi could detect the way her eyes tried to catch the gaze of Minar midst the mindless small talk. Minar seemed satisfied to let Val handle the conversation from their end and only spoke when spoken to directly, somehow managing to be more reticent than Oorja. The chatter was awkward for the most part but Saneh Jora received no antagonism from the tactful Val and Oorja gave no reason for aggression to the royal guard. It wasn’t long before the princess seemed to have reached her end of boredom and suggested that they leave, somehow commanding obedience from the otherwise proud-looking teenage prince. 

As they were leaving the hall, Saakhi noted princess Yaali try to linger but Minar moved ahead and it wasn’t until the clamour of armours that Saakhi realised her reason for speed. Between the blink of an eye, Minar had pulled the young prince from keeping his foot out, her hand grabbing his arm with a strong tug. 

“How dare you!” Saneh Jora exclaimed but Minar ignored the guards who had gone to draw their swords, looking at the floor instead. 

“Scorpion!” Imay pointed out and Saakhi peered over the shoulder of a guard to see the viciously dark creature with its sting up. Looking back up, she saw Minar still holding on to the prince’s arm. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked him, eyes worried as she looked him over with a glance. The teenager looked flummoxed and then embarrassed as he tugged his arm free from the grasp.

“Let go,” he ordered, tugging his sleeve back into place and reached over to purposefully knock the scorpion away with the sword of the nearest guard, “Why would you grab me like that? Are you mute? Couldn’t you have just said something?”

Piba looked like he was going to intervene but Val shook his head subtly, an odd sadness flickering through his eyes as he watched Minar. 

“I -,” Minar lowered her hand and took a step back, looking down and then back at the prince, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s new,” Saakhi heard Princess Yaali comment but Minar didn’t turn to look at her and instead excused herself as she walked out, letting the guests be led to the exit by the others. As she was leaving, Yaali turned to look at Saakhi with a considering expression. 

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” she asked and Saakhi tilted her head in vague agreement. 

“I wouldn’t know, princess,” she replied but continued when the look remained suspicious, “I was raised in Odho for a while, though I doubt you knew my parents. It could have been during one of our travels.”

“You don’t live at Odho anymore?” the princess enquired with a raised brow and Saakhi shrugged. 

“I like good adventures and wherever they take me,” she saw the look thrown her way by the others, “I hope you’ll find your journey back to Odho safe.”

Yaali Lavana didn’t respond to that but looked at her wrist pouch and dug into it to pull out a familiar piece of silver. 

“Princess Mudhra wanted this to be returned to the person who lost it,” she declared lightly and held out the hair-stick, waiting until Saakhi took it, “Do let her know that it’s not often people are as courteous to make this effort. Let her not throw it away again.”

_Aren’t you a sugarcoated bitter-pill_, Saakhi thought but refrained from commenting, twirling the stick between her fingers as she gave a short bow. 

The party left with the same lack of enthusiasm as they had arrived and the people of Swatan tried to be inconspicuous about their theories of the visit. Saakhi considered the stick in her hand and noted the engraved links of flowers on the crown of it. 

“She might be happy to get it back,” she heard and looked up to see Val observing her from a few feet away, walking closer at her look, “I suspect you have a lot of questions about the entire reaction to this visit.”

“I don’t know if you’ll give me the answers,” Saakhi commented, getting a regretful chuckle in response. 

“I might not,” he agreed, exhaling with a dry smile, “I’m afraid I can’t give them to you even if I had all of them. Some things aren’t our business to say, are they?”

Saakhi glanced back at the stick with a nod, knowing that there were a lot of things she hadn’t asked despite having taken up the offer of coming to this place. 

“I do hope though,” Val spoke and Saakhi blinked when he reached into his waist-pouch to pull out a circular object, “That you might be better suited to deal with this than I had judged you to be.”

“You’re a better thief than I would have expected,” Saakhi quipped as she eyed the compass that had gone missing from her belongings. 

“Considering the nature of how you got this, I’d think it wasn’t so bad,” he offered but his face wasn’t smug and Saakhi could read a twinge of regret as he placed the compass in her hand, “However, the reason I hid this doesn’t have much to do with you.”

“And the reason you’re returning it?”

“Call it a gamble,” Val offered, nodding to the silver stick, “I’m hoping some things negate the effect of others here.”

“Are you any good at gambling?” she asked with a shake of her head but took it, clutching it beside the stick, “Leader Gunshi?”

“Yes, Lady Por?”

“Don’t ever touch my things again.”

“I understand,” Val nodded and waved as he wished her farewell, “If you’re looking for her, you might want to try the hilltop at the end of the pathway. Turn to the east and keep following the sun.”

The pathway went against the direction of the wind and Saakhi felt it brush her face as she walked up, climbing the grass covered rocky terrain with no particular rush. She saw Toya midway, the bright squirrel roaming around aimlessly. Or maybe it had an aim much different from what the world thought was worthwhile. 

Minar was exactly where Val had predicted, sitting with her back to the sun, knees bent and arms around her knees. She caught sight of Saakhi and didn’t look away as she walked closer, not quite bothered by the interruption. Her bright green top would have grass stains when she stood up and her sleeves were folded up to the elbow, but Minar looked untouched by the mud or dirt around her, tipping her face up to the sky. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Saakhi greeted as she made herself comfortable beside Minar, sitting on the rock attached to the one the other woman was using, “You don’t seem quite happy either.”

“Which one do you think applies to you?” Minar asked and Saakhi snorted as she eyed the expanse in front of them, her back warming under the sun’s gaze. 

“If I don’t fare any better than the frost princess in your book, then I’d be really hurt,” she quipped but folded her arms over her knees too, “So.”

“So,” Minar echoed, resting her chin on her arms as she kept staring straight. 

“I had a question,” Saakhi confessed, shrugging when Minar turned her head to shoot her a deadpanned look, “This one’s important, more than any other.”

“Just one?” Minar confirmed with a disbelieving tone. 

“That sounds like you’re giving me permission to ask more, be careful,” Saakhi pointed out and turned slightly to look at Minar as she asked, “Why were you eyeing my bow?”

Minar blinked and frowned, turning more to fully look at Saakhi. 

“That’s your question?”

“It’s a sensitive relationship, between an archer and her bow,” Saakhi explained with a put-upon serious look, “I just want to be prepared if you’re trying to covet Anukuri.”

“You named your bow Anukuri?” Minar raised a brow but Saakhi nodded. 

“Tell me honestly, are you trying to steal her away from me?” she asked and Minar eyed her for a minute before turning away with a roll of her eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure nobody’s going to steal your bow,” Minar assured as she rubbed her palms together lightly.

“Can’t be too sure,” Saakhi commented and pulled out the compass from her pouch, holding it out for Minar, “I didn’t think people would steal this either but - well.”

Minar glanced at Saakhi’s palm and stared at the compass for a minute before looking up. 

“I thought you didn’t meet Ba- Paher Mahir, before he died or you left Agapura?” she asked and Saakhi nodded, pulling out the hair-stick too. 

“I didn’t. But Nami found it thrown out along with a few other things,” she answered, holding both the items in her hand, “So now you owe me an arrow and I don’t owe you an apology.”

Minar took the items from her after a minute and held them in her hand, looking tired before putting them in her lap, blowing out air lightly. 

“I recognised your bow,” she said after a moment of silence and Saakhi frowned but Minar was smiling lightly at the sky, “Which means that technically I don’t owe you anything.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because,” Minar looked over at her and there was an odd amusement in her eyes, “that’s my bow and you stole it. More than a decade ago.”

Saakhi opened her mouth and then closed it as she went over that statement. 

“I’d never met you before,” she pointed out slowly but Minar chuckled as she shook her head. 

“Possible. But that is still my bow. I won it fair and square,” she confessed, shrugging a shoulder at Saakhi’s confused expression, “You got it at Odho, right?”

“I -,” Saakhi did get it at Odho but didn’t understand, “I got it from a travelling caravan’s discarded luggage.”

“So that’s where it went,” Minar mused thoughtfully, looking down at her hair-stick as she smiled, “I always thought it was stolen. Or that they went back on their word.”

At Saakhi’s blank look, Minar exhaled and turned to face the empty pathway ahead of them. 

“I won it as my prize for the last tournament I attended,” she explained, pausing before she continued, “Ironically, it was also the first time I came across this compass. At Odho, during the peak of summer. That was when I was the princess of Agapura and nobody expected things to change.”

Saakhi watched as Minar let the past crash over her and drifted to a memory where she didn’t have to hide from anyone. Where she hadn’t turned her back to the sun and the pathways weren’t rocky yet. 

When she was nothing more than Paher Minar and Saanjh had no reason to be created. 


	13. Checkbox- Part 1

The tents were set up at the outskirts of the central ground, flags fluttering atop each to signify which group it belonged to. The groundskeepers were going through the audience seats, wiping down wooden seats and sweeping the stone floors one last time. The raised balconies for the nobles and royal families were decorated with flower-lines in every hue that Odho could find. She ducked around the stable of Torni’s horses and looked for the fawn coloured flag, eyes catching it three tents down the row. 

The guards at the tent didn’t pay her attention beyond a courteous nod and let her enter without a word. One of them did eye the state of her dress but she didn’t wait to explain as she barged in. 

“Did you start yet?” she asked as soon as she entered and the helper looked up from where he was about to arrange the armour on the table. Chatu was long used to her routine and didn’t bat an eye as she moved away from the armour, a gentle smile on his face as he greeted her. 

“Unfortunately not,” the other man in the tent spoke up, tying his vest up as he faced away from them, “We almost got lucky this time, Chatu. Almost.”

“I don’t know why people think you’re funny,” she pointed at the armour and waved at Chatu to move, walking over to take his place as she kept talking, “Is it because they have a bad sense of humour or because they’re trying to humour you?”

“You’re just an hour early this time, an improvement,” the scale mail gleamed on the table, details of gold gilded over stronger iron, “Who spared us the other half an hour?”

Chatu looked at her and she nodded, letting him withdraw from the tent to get on with other things he needed to do. She got to checking the armour with sharp eyes and didn’t bother looking up when her companion came around to stand in front of her on the other side of the table. Only when she was satisfied with it did she glance up to see her brother raising a brow at her. 

“Some days I wonder if you are my younger sister or my _ sasu _,” he commented as he reached out a hand to flatten her the mess of her hair, an exasperated look on his fond face, “Why did you make a bird’s nest out of your hair, what’s this, hmm?”

Out of the Paher siblings, Mogh was undoubtedly the most handsome with his dimples and thick dark hair. He wasn’t much taller than her but his neck was longer, graceful in its curve especially with the elegance he carried with him as he walked. Their aunts commented that she had inherited her father’s shoulders and he had inherited his mother’s waist, a contrast in energies. They had grown up with those comments, reflecting in everything they did and learnt. When he practiced his tanpura and she kept the rope of her manjira from getting knotted, there were talks of their temperaments. When she hefted her mace onto her shoulder and he picked up his intricately designed spear, there were discussions about their bravery distinctions. There wasn’t much they could do without discussions springing up at every turn. 

Minar made a face when his fingers caught in a particularly tangled spot and he took his hand away to let her deal with it. She combed her fingers through her hair haphazardly and pulled it together to tie it up in a quick bun. 

“One day I’m going to chop it off,” she swore as she got back to work, pushing at her brother’s shoulder to get him to move.

“You chop it off and Rani-ma will chop you up,” he replied as he acquiesced, letting her inspect the swords lined up in wooden stands beside his javelin, “I heard news about a bet.”

“For you or me?”

“Both?” Mogh tilted his head vaguely as he held the curved sword she handed him, rotating his wrist as he demonstrated his comfort with it before letting her pick it away from his hand, “Apparently, the prince of Byumir started it and now there’s a whole pool.”

Minar hummed absently as she hefted his javelin in her palm, testing for any weight deviation. Mogh was proficient in many things, an equal to any challenge worthy of a fighter, but he wasn’t the most competitive and it reflected in his interest when it came to these events. Baba didn’t have objections to him skipping the meet if he chose to but they would be goaded, snide remarks coming through in the banquets. She got her share of remarks too, of rough hands too square for delicate glass bangles and too heavy on opponents at the _ akhada _. It didn’t matter if she were dutiful when it came to the court or when he was dedicated when it came to battle plans - they were still the odd duo from Agapura. 

Mogh was calm in the face of these, and Minar tried it too. She just wasn’t quite successful when it was rebuke served to her brother. 

They went through the entire process of meditating together, Minar taking charge of setting up his armour once they were done and Mogh obliging every demand as he always did when she was involved. This was their ritual and had been so since their childhood, when Mogh was all knobbly knees and Minar was too big for carrying arms. 

“Sardar Goha Prabhat and Aga Angara Paher Mahir are here!” the guard announced and Minar glanced longingly at the plate of kheer she was about to dig into before sighing as she stood. Mogh got to his feet with his hands calm by his sides and greeted the leaders with a respectful bow. Minar followed suit and discreetly winked at her father when he glanced at her but he didn’t look his cheerful self today. 

“Mogh,” Paher Mahir had a kind voice that had filled his children’s memories with bedtime stories and encouragement, but it came out regretful as he addressed his son, “We’ve received some troubling rumours.”

“Rumours?” Goha Prabhat was a stoutly honoured man with his temper rivalling his stature, both shorter than acceptable in common grounds, “Didn’t you see my servant bring the proof, Mahir?”

“Someone,” Mahir didn’t raise his voice but he didn’t look away from his children either, making it clear that he wouldn’t care for interruption, “claims to have found a concentrated box of _ Ahilya rasasindura _ in your chambers and allege that you consumed it to boost your strength.”

Rasasindura, a mercury-based tonic, was permitted for the healers to use against ailments and to boost immunity. It was potent and Mogh had used it once or more back at home, when he fell sick. But they never used the Ahilya version, which was both illegal to possess and use. Minar was prone to questioning rules at times, and Mudhra di was lesser but Mogh was the last person to ever breaking one this important. 

“Who claims this?” Minar asked but Mogh didn’t look perturbed. 

“It isn’t mine,” he said without nervousness or offence, “I don’t have such a thing in possession.”

Mahir nodded, looking at Goha Prabhat who shook his head as he eyed Mogh and frowned at Minar’s tempered glare. 

“We have evidence, unfortunately,” he repeated, pulling out a small wooden box from the pouch hanging from his waist, holding it out for them to see, “Our servants found this while cleaning your quarters and reported it to the royal healer. What do you expect us to do?”

“Believe him,” Minar spoke up, meeting the older man’s gaze with confidence, “Why would Mogh use something he knows will get him into trouble right before the tournament? It makes no sense and he just confirmed that it isn’t his.”

“What you see is always easier to believe than what is said, Paher Minar,” the chief of Odho reminded her, “If Mogh goes to fight now, it will never be taken into account honourably.”

“How is that supposed to be higher than the truth?”

“I believe you,” Mahir cut through, looking at his son without hesitation and Mogh nodded slowly, “I know your truth and so does everyone at Agapura. You have nothing to prove to us.”

“Baba,” Minar insisted as she took a step towards her father, “He has worked too hard, we have prepared too much to not have this chance. He has done nothing wrong.”

“I know,” her father agreed but Mogh looked over at Goha Prabhat. 

“If I back out from the event today, what happens to Agapura’s representation?”

“You already had the first session where she participated, didn’t you?” the leader asked as he glanced at Minar but she didn’t acknowledge the courtesy. 

“We have to participate in both sessions to have a shot at the complete championship,” she pointed out and Mogh stepped forward, ignoring her as he stared at Leader Prabhat. 

“Can somebody else fill-in for me?” he enquired, looking straight ahead even when Minar shot him a chiding look for giving in too easily. Goha Prabhat considered it but nodded and Mogh inhaled before accepting. 

“Then I request you to do so,” he asked, “We will be sending our stand-by to keep up the rules of the tournament. I ask that you allow us the time to choose one though, and thus let us announce the name later. If that will not be a problem?”

“Mogh -”

“If that shouldn’t be a problem?” he insisted, not letting Minar argue and Goha Prabhat looked at Mahir before agreeing. They waited till he took his leave before Minar whirled on her brother. 

“What?” he laughed at her troubled expression and looked at his father, who was shaking his head with a tired smile, “We can still do this, why are you two so upset?”

“Let me go find out who did this,” Minar declared but Mogh shifted to block her way, a serious look in his eyes. 

“No”

“Mogh”

“We have different priorities right now,” he reminded her, holding her shoulders gently when she grit her jaw, “Agapura’s honour is much more important than me participating. So, I need to ask you two questions. First, is your wound okay?”

Her back still twinged from the morning session but it wasn’t severe, far tamer than the bruises she got during training back home. Mogh looked sceptical for a second but nodded when she insisted that she was fine. 

“Good, then my second question,” he untied the arm-band from his left and held it out, “Will you fight for us?”

“They’ll have objections,” Mahir pointed out and Mogh looked over his shoulder, “The first session was for the lightweights according to them and they didn’t raise trouble about her. But this session is of crown princes and champions.”

“And she is both for us,” Mogh defended without hesitation, calm in his rebuttal, “Baba, the rules don’t restrict her and she is better than all of them combined. The only reason they didn’t register her for this category is because they cannot handle her. Well, now they don’t have a choice.”

Minar eyed the red and black arm-band, her frustration warring with an understanding of what her brother was saying. She didn’t have the temper problem that some royals thought she did but she had a wit that matched her mace and a tongue that wasn’t trained into cowardice. Diplomacy and courtesy were taught to them from a young age, and she could dabble in both when needed to, but there were some areas that they didn’t matter to her. 

“I guess I need to change then,” she said, meeting Mogh’s eyes with a glint of amusement.

The crowd was roaring in encouragement as she entered the arena, dressed in her firmly laced leather armour, silver arm guards and the tournament’s arm-band in place, her mace held in her right hand. The mace, Godhuli, had been forged with the strongest steel from Jevadhi, smelted by the blacksmiths who added the vigour of bamboo and carbon-rich plants to it. Dipped in the heat of an active volcano deep in Iridwipa’s volatile islandic soil, it had an iron apex over the dark core with two halves of carbonized silver forming domes on the sides. The silver sun painted in the centre glinted as she tossed it in her hand, gripping the iron rod as she looked up at those gathered to witness the events. 

Queen Tuhina sat beside their hostess and Minar caught sight of her mother turning to look at Mogh when he took his place beside Mahir. Minar didn’t react when Tuhina looked back at her, knowing that Mogh would handle it later. Instead, she waited beside the other contenders in the ceremonial line as the oath of valour was read out to remind them of holding a fair event in the presence of their ancestors. 

The session was divided into three tests - close combat, distance conquering, and control against multiple threats. Where Mogh would have chosen his spear, Minar fought the prince of Byumir with Godhuli. He was aggressive, stance wide and arms long as he took to the offensive from the start. When he began getting annoyed over her defense, the blow to her thigh came viciously and Minar heard the uproar from the crowd nearby even as she got back to her feet. It took restraint to not pummel him into a mess but she managed to tire him into leaving himself unblocked, delivering her series of attacks with precision of training flowing through. 

The distance event was a choice between the heavier discus and the longer javelin. Minar caught the eye of her father watching from the balcony as she took her place, the discus in hand. Her eyes moved to Mogh and she could see the utter calm in his posture, the confidence that was always given freely. She turned back to her target and let her body twist, clutching the weapon in her right hand as she spun once before releasing it in the direction of the measuring line. The crowd went wild as she placed right beside the other finalist, the crown prince of Torni. 

Saneh Dhara Lamhan was a royal’s favourite in many ways. His upbringing was famed among matchmakers and spoken highly by his teachers. There had been a secret clamour to gain his hand in alliance for many lands. It was a disappointment to a few when his parents had approached Paher Mahir for the hand of Paher Mudhra, his niece and foster daughter. 

It was fitting that he was now matched to win against his sister-in-law-to-be. 

Minar watched as Saneh Dhara went up against three champions, his sword beaming in the sun’s glare as he attempted to fulfil his mission. The motive of the last test was to see how the contender would protect a defenseless being against multiple attacks delivered by champions chosen from the land’s knights. He was good, swift and alert as he shielded the blacksmith meant to be the target of the attacks. He had almost vanquished two champions when Minar noted the third one pick up his bow. 

Her fist curled in stunned anger as she saw Saneh Dhara realised the plan too late, the arrow hitting its mark before he could help. There was an applause of congratulation and sympathy for the prince as the helpers came to carry away the wounded blacksmith quietly. Saneh Dhara swallowed his disappointment as he walked off the ground but offered Minar a courteous nod of good luck. 

She knew that she would need more than luck the minute she saw the ‘target’ chosen for her. He was tall, a nervous looking man who was more bones than flesh under the plain clothes and hastily tied turban that was just a towel of cotton. His eyes looked panicked, frenzy increasing as he glanced at the champions surrounding them. 

“What’s your name?” she asked as she took her place and the man jerked his gaze towards her, looking like he was minutes away from throwing up. 

“Gunshi,” his voice cracked and she hated this, hated that this was somehow considered a test of courage and leadership. She didn’t need a helpless man to be terrified for people to praise her valour. 

She couldn’t spend time on raging about that though and steeled her nerves as she held the man’s gaze for a minute. 

“Brother Gunshi, you will go home safe today,” she said calmly, the promise hardening her words with fire. He swallowed hard but nodded when she waited for his response, looking at the champions when she turned to face them. 

Her feet ached, the sun scorching the sand beneath them, and her thigh screamed murder as she fought around the man. It was not a fight for honour or recognition and Minar didn’t bother with finesse as she caught every blow with her sword and shield, pushing back to keep Gunshi safe. They were older than her, more seasoned and battle-trained in their strategies, but Minar was fighting for life. 

She fought harder for others than for herself. 

They tired her down but she kept her arms up, letting sweat drip down her neck and throat parch as she knocked one, and the second. The last one standing was trickier and Minar’s shield was thrown away by the time she faced him. 

She saw the arrow release and knew that there was no victory here even as she threw her sword at the opponent. There was no name to be gathered in the blood of the innocent. 

One jump, a helpless half-scream from the frightened man targeted, a dull noise of the arrow embedding itself in flesh. 

The silence of the crowd broke with the cheer from a young woman who held Agapura’s banner in the top rows and Gunshi slowly opened his eyes to see what had happened. 

“Told you,” Minar grinned, blood staining down her arm as she blocked his path, an arrow sticking into the red and black arm-band, “You missed my winning dive.”

Gunshi’s hysterical relief was drowned out by the rush of the crowd that descended onto the ground, wanting to lift their champion into the air. Mogh dug his way through the sea of people and caught a laughing Minar as she was let down, clasping her face in his hands with a disbelieving yet worried smile. 

“I told you to fight, not get killed,” he shook his head even as he squeezed her cheeks, eyes peering at the arrow before looking around for the healers, “You’re losing blood, we need to get that out right now.”

“_ Dada _,” she let him help her out of the rejoicing crowd and leaned her weight against him as they walked to the tent, “What happened to the bet?”

Mogh helped her into the tent even as the healers rushed in, scurrying around them to arrange the medicines necessary. Making her rest on the cot, he watched over the chief physician cauterise the wound and brought over the warm water when requested, leaving the tent only when her dressing was to be done. 

When he came back, a few good minutes of pain later, he held a dark bow in hand. It had three rings of white engraved on top and five in the bottom, distinct against the black of the wood. There was an arrow clutched alongside it and it had one shining dot of silver near its tip. 

Minar blinked groggily at her brother but he simply placed the items near her bedside and pressed her head back onto the cot. 

“That’s Byumir’s finest bow,” he explained as he sat down near her, “It’s from the bet. You won.”

They stared at each other for a quiet second before Minar began laughing, and Mogh shook his head as he chuckled, both of them looking like fools when their parents finally came in to congratulate her.

The prince of Byumir had paid enough for his mischief in Mogh’s room but couldn’t complain about it to anyone. It seemed fitting.


	14. Checkbox - Part 2

Agapura welcomed its champion with streets brimming in raucous cheer, flowers laden in balconies and sweets distributed from Paheri Nok’s kitchens when they caught sight of the expected flying carrier come into view. The malaya vimana was designed with the hues and traits of the monal bird in mind, the shape of the pheasant leading its structure. It was built to withstand high altitude flying and could carry a crowd of fifty easily. 

“Do you think Ma will spare me if I keep acting hurt?” Minar whispered to Mogh as they got out of the carrier, following their parents as the welcoming rituals were conducted. 

“If she hasn’t said anything yet, she’s not going to say anything now,” Mogh replied quietly, smiling at the minister who came to greet them. 

Minar doubted that. That rule applied to Mogh, who was more adaptable to Ma’s standards and regulations. With Minar, silence meant a painfully unavoidable conversation later and she would much rather feed the cows. 

Tuhina didn’t bring anything up for the major part of the day and Minar almost believed that Mogh had been right in his assessment when she got the call to gather at her mother’s chambers after lunch. At least now I have energy to listen, she thought as she walked into the room while wishing she had managed to convince the cook to make some apple kheer too. 

When she saw Mogh standing inside already, she paused before walking forward, her silk lavender skirt brushing the pale polished floor. She raised her brows questioningly but he simply nodded towards their mother, who was writing something on her desk, her back towards them. She stood up when Minar was mouthing her next question and the siblings faced Tuhina as she turned around, a neatly scrolled letter in her hand. 

“I take it you’re both rested after the long week?” she asked as she came down the two steps to face them, her kohl lined eyes looking both of them over once before she looked at Mogh, “Mogh, I’m glad we were able to clear your name at Odho before we left. I could expect an apology from Byumir if you insist.”

“I’m fine, Rani-ma,” he replied and Minar made a face, clearly disagreeing with his leniency. Tuhina caught the expression before she could get it under control and she smiled awkwardly. 

“I’m fine too, Ma,” she assured but her mother shot her a dry look before glancing at her arm. 

“Of course, being a human shield is a part of the training course, isn’t it?” she asked sarcastically and Minar bit back a wince as she resisted the urge to tug at her full-sleeves, “The physicians tell me that it won’t scar if you follow their instructions well.”

The unasked Will you was clear and Minar pursed her lips as she looked away, waiting for the conversation to take a new turn. 

“Is it an important letter, Rani-ma?” Mogh distracted the attention and Minar looked up to see Tuhina nod as she looked at the emerald green scroll. 

“It’s a reply to the invite from your teachers at Varnisnuti,” she informed, meeting their eyes, “Acharya Samvarka has asked you both to join them in the centennial celebration scheduled for two weeks from now. He wishes for you to come early to help them out in the preparation, if you can.”

“We will,” they both agreed and Minar felt the excitement build over the thought of going back to school. The gurukula at Varnisnuti was famed for its impartiality and disenchantment about being favoured by power, accepting students based on merit and willingness to learn. Mogh had graduated two years before her and Minar had made most of her friends there, gaining a reputation for being both stubborn and dedicated. Now two years since her own graduation, she missed the place and going back meant an opportunity to have fun with old friends again. 

“I know,” Tuhina expected the answer from them and handed over the scroll to Mogh, “I’ve sent word of our acceptance and this is a message of goodwill. You both will not be accompanied by helpers as is the rule of Acharya, so I hope you will take better care of yourselves.”

Minar smiled cheekily at the pointed look sent her way but nodded when Mogh cleared his throat. 

“Good,” Tuhina smiled at Mogh and tapped her hand against Minar’s arm, smirking lightly at the stunned yelp, “You’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow, so take rest today and don’t get into trouble. And Minar?”

“Yes, ma?” Minar mumbled as she rubbed below the dressing. 

“Get your dressing changed,” Tuhina ordered before patting Mogh’s shoulder as she turned to leave. Minar put upon a pitiful face as she faced Mogh but only got an arm around her shoulder as she was dragged away to go pack for their journey. 

They set out as the first rays of the sun touched the walls of Paheri Nok, being taken by the vimana till the outskirts of Varnisnuti before going forward on their horses. Varnisnuti was a maze of woods and volatile lakes, no clearing large enough to allow flying carriers to land. Mogh’s stallion, aptly named Taaj, was serenely disciplined and didn’t give in to curiosity more than essential. Minar’s sand-coloured horse, Hora, was temperamental to put things tamely. He shared his rider’s love for apples and had the urge to drink from every lake they pass. 

By the time they reached the gates of the school, it was an hour before sunset and they alighted to wait for the disciple guards to inform the Acharya of their arrival. It took some time before the disciple came back to inform them that they had permission to enter, guiding them to the stables to leave their horses to rest before they could retire to their assigned quarters. 

“Minar! Min- oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” a voice called out as they walked along the passage to their quarters and Minar turned to see a young girl apologising profusely to the disciples she had run into, “Oh - is that milk? Oh no, wait, let me get you something -”

Minar recognised Kasak Nek from appearance and the bad luck that seemed to follow her whenever she walked anywhere, gaining her the nickname of Tatola Tota (fumbling parrot). Seeing how her old classmate was only making things worse when she tried to wipe the spilt milk with another disciple’s shawl, Minar made her way towards the scene. 

“Kasak, stop helping,” she chuckled as she caught the hand that was now going to grab at the poor disciple’s shirt sleeves with milk-stained palms, “Please go clean yourselves up, she’ll be fine with me. Careful.”

Kasak looked guilty as she watched the boys leave with grumblings under their breath before turning to look at Minar with a hangdog expression. 

“It was just milk,” Minar patted her back sympathetically before wiping at her hands with the shawl, “It could have been worse.”

“I’m sure it will be, we’re going to be here for a while,” Kasak sighed, her russet eyes lighting up as she turned fully, “I’m so happy to see you! Did you come in just now? Did you come alone?”

“Mogh just went into his room,” Minar pointed over her shoulder with a grin that widened when Kasak excitedly pulled her into a hug, “I’m glad you’re here too, oof, stop choking me. Did your mother actually send you alone this time?”

“Even she isn’t stubborn enough to argue with Acharya Samvarka all over again,” Kasak rolled her eyes as she pulled away, linking her arm around Minar’s when they began walking back towards the quarters, “Besides, it’s been years since I was here. She trusts me much more now.”

“She packed in an entire army’s worth of luggage, didn’t she?” Minar guessed and quirked her lips when Kasak narrowed her eyes at her but nodded tiredly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make use of most of it between us.”

They spent the evening chatting before joining the other students at the main hall to meet the teachers. Mogh was polite and well-liked among them, and got to discussing old topics that he liked debating about. Minar let Kasak drag her around to reintroduce themselves to people but was mostly content exploring the place when she was left alone. After a while, she managed to excuse herself from mingling further and told Kasak that she’d be back before the evening address. 

“Finally,” she exhaled and inhaled the fresh air of the garden as she found her way to it from the bustle of the gathering hall, “It almost feels like the past again.”

“With you sneaking away from scheduled gatherings? I’d say so”

Minar sighed as she recognised the voice even without seeing the person and looked to the sky before turning around to face another old acquaintance. 

It would be a disastrous day when she called Yaali Prabhat her friend. 

“It’s good to see you too, Yaali,” she greeted, both of them hearing the clear lie in the pleasant tone, “Though I must say, it’s odd seeing you here. Did you forget your way to the gathering hall?”

“Why, am I not allowed to be in the garden?” Yaali’s eyes resembled her father and her mind resembled a dingy cave according to Minar, who would never understand the younger Prabhat princess’ fascination with her. 

Well, fascination with annoying her. 

“It’s not like being forbidden would stop you,” Minar kept up her civil smile as she took in the dark ensemble that looked like the night sky had wed a black hole, “I just don’t recall you ever being interested in places that didn’t involve -”

“Drama?”

“ - people,” Minar could see the civility stretch thin but she wasn’t too bothered to fake it to extreme limits, “I’ll let you enjoy the garden in peace then. Wish you a good evening.”

She almost managed to slip past Yaali when she saw another figure enter the garden, looking around with a slight frown. Minar felt her lips stretch into a smile when their eyes met and recognition sparked in the other person’s eyes. 

“Minar?” Uri sounded happy and Minar had _ missed _her, the genuine warmth and kind eyes that always made her feel like there were lamps lit nearby. 

“Uri,” Minar greeted her old friend and grinned when the other girl crossed the distance with swift steps, coming to stand before her with a wide smile, “You look well.”

“What formality, but thank you,” Uri laughed before stepping into Minar’s space to wrap her arms around her in a gentle hug, “I knew I’d find you here.”

Minar chuckled but let herself hold Uri as she felt another part of her past slot back into place.


	15. Nosedive - Part 1

Minar didn’t know what to make of Saakhi Por. She had a clue or two about Imay, the tact wrapped around tactics and brown-eyed charm of a navigator who knew his way around most situations. He played to his strengths among those weaker than him and to his vulnerabilities around those who had higher protective instincts. If she had met him at a less friendly situation, he would have been the one to keep an eye on for a strategic attack.

She could identify him. His words and actions aligned with one another.

Saakhi was a conundrum with every waking second she spent around them. It had been two weeks since she had lodged at Swatan but there wasn’t much to get a clear picture about her. Minar could track the path of a storm clearer than the intentions of this rogue archer with a hummingbird’s thought-train.

“He woke up from a damp pyre,” Saakhi started, her fourth prompt for the evening’s game. They were supposed to be sculpting pieces for the order received from Nuyyan which was due in a month, but it was late and the firelight cast shadows over the ground as they chatted while working. Minar wasn’t the most skilled at art, she never had been even with a brush, which meant that she was more useful helping Oorja and clearing the dust that gathered while the others worked. Imay had accompanied Piba to Jevadhi to deliver the monthly produce of jackfruit that would barter them rice, and Saakhi had opted to stay behind so she could help them with the sculptures.

Which, in her mind, meant regaling horror stories and roping everyone into spinning them along with her.

“Why is it damp?” Nami asked and Saakhi clicked her tongue, throwing a stray piece of chipped wood behind her, skimming the girl’s head without target, “A damp pyre makes no sense, it -”

“-wouldn’t burn anything, much less a human,” Ezhil took over easily, turning Nami’s complaint into a part of the story as he addressed the group, “But it had burnt him. Flesh had melted off his arm and fire had eaten through his belly. On charred bones and with no recollection of how he had gotten there, the new ghoul looked around for guidance.”

“Great, now he’s a ghoul,” Tejo muttered and grunted when Ezhil kicked at her ankle to continue, “What?”

Ennila was the most talented sculptor among them, a gift that would be passed on to Ezhil if he ever chose to practice, but she was also one with a light heart. With a wink thrown at Minar, she began clinking her bowl gouge against the empty basin beside her feet, in time with the passing seconds. Tejo sputtered and looked at the others for help. The rules of the game had been simple, though Saakhi had a funny habit of adding more if she wished to, but the basic two remained.

Those who interrupt must continue if nobody else did. Those who didn’t continue had to do the rooster’s job the next day.

The clinking got louder with Ezhil joining his mother and Minar raised her brow as Tejo eyed her pleadingly. If there was ever anyone who disliked storytelling, it would be the teenager who had no patience for continuity or pulling tales from the air. It was ironic that she hated waking early just as much.   
Minar shook her head and turned to sweep up the splinters from her spot as the seconds dwindled to the final count.

“There were carvings on the logs,” she spoke without looking up, picking the larger chunks by hand, “Deep gouges made in determined lines, half broken away from words like the hand had been too tired. He had no memory of this, just as he didn’t of burning or surviving a fire, but he was a ghoul now. He had never been that before and he didn’t know how to be one. So he read those lines, angry and stern in their command, still dripping from the ashes of his skin that weren’t wet like the pyre. Dragging his feet till he could climb down, till his sole and skeleton could stand on the ground instead of the wood, he read his reason to be this new form.”

Nobody spoke, the pin-drop silence behind her not stopped by metal clattering, and Minar shrugged at Oorja when he nodded at the waiting group.

She heard footsteps and a familiar tinkle, turning back in time to see Piba enter. Imay was following behind him but Minar’s eyes caught on to the unnaturally serious expression on Piba’s face, feeling a frown come onto her face as she stood up.

Before she could ask anything, his eyes slid over to Saakhi and then back to Minar, pointedly tilting his head to the side signalling that they needed to speak away from there. Imay finally came to stand beside his travelling companion but his eyes were having a whole different conversation with his sister. Minar dusted her palms on her waist-cloth and looked at Oorja, who simply nodded without asking too much. He looked confused but he knew that Piba and Minar had their own trust level that didn’t need monitoring or interventions.

Minar slipped away from the group and Saakhi got to her feet, following suit without being invited. Minar would have stopped her but Imay looked at Piba with a questioning glance and Piba nodded shortly, leading them to his uncle’s workshop. Val had long since gone to sleep with the rest of those who didn’t have artistic pursuits or energy to try, and his cold enclosure served as a getaway for whatever Piba had to discuss in private.

“Who’s in trouble?” Minar looked between Piba and Imay, shutting the door behind her as Saakhi came to stand beside her. There was an odd tension in Piba’s eyes, conflicted between frustration and hesitance, so she turned to Imay with a pointed gaze. The shorter man simply held his silence and eyed Piba’s frame out of the corner of his eyes.

“The kid,” Piba’s fingers were sharp as he signed, pointing at the door behind her before he continued, “isn’t who we think she is.”

“Which kid?” Minar turned to Imay but could feel Saakhi curse under her breath, “Be clearer or we’re going to be here a long while.”

“It’s Nami,” Imay spoke up when Piba exhaled hard and looked worriedly at Minar, “When we were at Jevadhi we found out that there’s a bounty placed.”

“What did she do?” Saakhi sounded tired but Minar could tell that something was deeper here, something more than a simple bounty.

“She didn’t do anything,” Piba eyed Saakhi for a long minute before meeting Minar’s gaze, “The bounty was placed for her not on her. The Nek family is looking for her and have sent out messages seeking information. She was taken from Agapura where she had been with an envoy.”

“Taken,” Minar repeated, feeling her head spin for a minute before she frowned, “Wait, Nek family? Why are they looking for her?”

“Because she’s in their foster care,” Imay revealed, scratching at his forehead, “She’s under the tutelage of Lady Kasak Nek Davihar. So now both the Nek family and the entirety of Nuyyan is looking for her.”

Kasak. Of course, it had to be yet another person from the past.

“You told me she was an orphan who needed help,” Minar said, turning to face Saakhi as she heard her own heartbeat thunder against her ears, “How did you know that?”

“It’s what she said,” Saakhi shrugged and if she was calmer Minar would have seen the tension lining the cavalier gesture but she didn’t have space for calm at the moment. Her eyes narrowed, the noise building up in her thoughts.

“She said and what, you picked her up on a trip across lands?” she verified, bite seeping through her tone, “A kid you didn’t know before tells you something and you suddenly decide to add her to your reckless adventure spree?”

“Reckless?” Saakhi scoffed, “It’s reckless to trust someone to be telling the truth when they say that they’re an orphan? Just because she lied doesn’t mean that I’m the one who made the wrong choice here.”

“Right, you’re the one with the right choices,” Minar countered, “A long list of wise decisions we’ve seen, haven’t we?”

“If you’re going to be accusing -”

“The first time you told me about Nami, you had dropped her off in the care of a teenager,” Minar reminded, “You decided that Val, a stranger to you, was a good choice to follow to a place you’ve never been to, and brought an unknown child with you. Seem like the right choices everywhere.”

“In both these situations, it seems like you don’t trust Ezhil and Gunshi,” Saakhi pointed out, meeting word for word, “If we’re worried about wrong decisions, what does it say that you don’t trust the people of your place?”

“Me trusting people I’ve known for years is not equal to your poor judgement skills”  
“Right, it’s just your paranoia of everyone who doesn’t answer to you.”

“Trust me, if I was paranoid,” Minar lowered her voice and her eyes flashed as they stared at each other, “you’d not be just answering questions right now.”

There was a knock against the door, a skittering of knuckles against wood, making Piba move. Minar looked away first and Saakhi turned with her to look at the door as it was opened.

“Is Nami here?” Tejo asked when she saw Piba and looked over his shoulder at Minar, seeming hesitant before continuing, “She came here a while ago to tell you that she’s resting with me tonight but I haven’t seen her come back.”

Minar felt the realisation knock into her when she shared a look with Piba. If Nami had overheard them -

Without waiting for any further talk, she walked out of the room and let the others handle Tejo. She heard footsteps dog her own as she rushed out to look for the kid, but didn’t try to stop them.

Saakhi kept pace as they both made their way to the outskirts of the area, neither of them speaking. They didn’t need to, this one time.

They were both good at running and hiding, and the best place to seek first was where nobody would venture.

The woods.

**Author's Note:**

> This story will also be available on my blog [here](https://thespinatalesite.wordpress.com/)


End file.
